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Written Friday, October 18, 2019 / Day 67 / Morning / Dictated in Whole Foods Parking Lot, Amherst, New York This morning was a morning of touring. I had some time so the thought struck me to go revisit some of the significant places of our lives since being “home” has brought me to the beginnings of our lives together. I drove around and methodically went to both the places that were part of my life as well as the places that were significant to my wife and I. The seed of this idea occurred to me when on the way to see friends. On my way I passed the street where my wife and I had our first apartment together. That’s when it became obvious that I was not here to only see my mother-in-law, brother-in-law and our dear friends. I was here to revisit my life and where everything began. The following day I made a special trip back to that first apartment on Newell Avenue - the one where I helped her move in to and then made the decision to never leave her - in distress or alone. I have been increasingly drawn to the beginnings of our relationship. Despite the fact that they were traumatic and stressful in their own way I have been drawn to those days since they replay that incredible love God gave me for her and all that it means to me. Of the few things that bring me actual comfort these days - this reminiscing seems to provide moments of stability in the midst of the recollections of those days. For my family - I know these things are of little value - or emotional connection. I wish they could be but really how could they be? That is why writing seems to also bring moments of comfort. For what cannot be understood from experience can at least be told as a story. A story I would pray would become meaningful to them - and to anyone else who might be interested. So as I was about to turn the corner on to the street I was surprised to find barricades and equipment in the street with large barriers proclaiming ‘ROAD CLOSED”. This is the first time I laughed out loud that I can remember. The absurdity of the situation just struck me - at least it was humorous and not sad. So I went down to the next street and tried to see if I could approach it from the other way. It was also closed and there was just enough in the way that I could not make out the building. The street was all torn up. Oh well, at least I tried. Next I went back to our first house - the one we ended up living in for 11 years before we had to move away. I had seen it through Google street view where you can just about go to any address. August 28, 2019 was the 32nd anniversary of our leaving Buffalo and arriving in Richmond, Virginia. Then I went back to the street where I grew up. It was right around the corner from the the store where my mother had her part-time job. The store where I would first meet my future wife at the age of 8. Of course at that time she was a girl and they weren’t all that interesting. I actually developed a relationship with her brother and over the years we’d pal around when he came to the store and his parents would let him come over to my house for a few hours. So I turned down the street and was quite shocked at the way everything looked. Perhaps you’ve had the experience of going back to childhood locations and feeling that things were smaller than you remembered. The streets were not as wide, the houses not that big. The surroundings seemingly shrunk over the years. Well on my former street it was stunning how small everything looked! The street was so narrow! The houses so small and close together! Actually the street itself was not even as long as I remember it being. Amazing. How is that possible? Apparently memories are larger than life. As a child our worlds are quite small. We are limited to our surroundings. As such, even that small size of our world to us at that point is actually huge. It is all we had. Since our worlds then were so small - it makes a bit of sense that everything in our world would seem large - we really had no comparison as a child to know it was so small. Then as an adult - your world has expanded exponentially. All of your experiences have made your world quite large. No wonder our past then, turns out to be so small. The past we remember is larger than life. As I continued on through the various locations - there were remnants of a few, reminders of others - and many replaced by progress. As I finished my tour - I reflected that this is all for me. No one would really care about any of this. The thought echos in my mind - that’s why you are here. You need to take inventory of your life, see the past and remember the best of those times. So as day four continues, I will be meeting two couples today at a place where we all gathered on past trips. All of us. Except one. I’m grateful that for some reason, the weight of all of this is not immediately present. I will enjoy the group and receive their comfort and love. Then return to my mother-in-law. It’s difficult for her to go anywhere so we will spend the afternoon together before I meet others for dinner. I am surprised at how much I am doing. At home I don’t have the stamina these days. Here I know I am getting extra help. The surreal trip continues.

Written Tuesday, October 15, 2019 / Day 64 / Evening / Amherst, New York I was sitting in my cramped airline seat on the way from my connection at Dulles airport to Buffalo when it struck me. Funny when you don’t see something right away. Well I never saw this coming. My plan was always to go to Buffalo to see Joann’s mom and brother and visit the friends who could not join us in August. That’s what I though was happening. Turns out the trip is really about me. Apart from Richmond, Virginia - the Western New York area was my home until we moved in 1987. It appears I am coming home to say goodbye to my wife through all of our dear friends who did not get the opportunity to do so in August. As I checked into the hotel room - my idea was to try to treat the trip like a business trip. In a way that’s what it seemed like. I had not flown in recent years but the rhythm of air travel was not new to me. And my wife and I had never flown to Buffalo before so it seemed strange but not as strange. Upon entering the room there was another realization. A completely unanticipated yet in its own way a bit devastating. This was a new Fairfield Inn built just a year or so ago. It was directly behind the Staybridge Inn we always stayed when traveling to Buffalo with the family each year. For obvious reasons, I was not able to stay there - I knew exactly the room type I would get and having been the one my wife and I always had each year - that option was just unthinkable. As a newer hotel, the Fairfield was very nice. They even gave me a room upgrade. As I entered the room - the next realizations hit me. Last year on our anniversary trip to western Virginia, there was a new Fairfield being built right across the way. We decided it would be perfect for our next year’s anniversary trip. Of course the reservation had to be cancelled - one of the many sorrows of my current life. But as I entered this room - I thought - this is probably just like the one we would have been staying at for our anniversary. They were built around the same time frame. All I could think about was how much she would have liked it. All the little touches - things we would have made a big deal about. But that was when we were together. Now I was alone. This was a little too much for me to grasp so I had an immediate meltdown when I got into the room. And I lamented so THIS is what I am here for? I don’t want to even be here if that is the case. I didn’t know the emptiness could get ANY EMPTIER!!! I tried to stop my breakdown but I couldn’t. The anguish, despair and emptiness just got the best of me. Oh yes, and throw in a little irony just for effect. I had taken my eye off the grief ball...and grief got a goal. As I regained my composure and settled myself a bit, the thoughts kept echoing…So I’m here in Buffalo for…me? How could I have missed that? Here I thought I was doing it for others - certainly that was the intent. But now wrestling with the room - I wanted no part of any of it. Although there was no exit plan - I was there for a week. So a bit of rationality surfaced. Looks like I need to have my moments with our closest friends. Not only to mourn my dear sweetie, but I imagine to mourn the future of our relationships. I hope they endure..at least I intend to keep my end up. But the dynamics of couple to couple becoming couple to single..well I’m not sure how that will play out into the future. Plus I’m not local - who knows what that will mean. So There I sat in that very wonderful room telling myself this is the part of the new world and not to play the what if with the past game that only saddens and depresses me and provides no real help to my current situation. I cry out to God for His strength..because I don’t know how I am doing and even how I have made it these last 64 days. Then I do know the answer. He has given me the strength. And I am here as an emissary of my new life. That one I do not want or plan on living or caring about. Oh right, that one. I’m here to have closure and all that. Well maybe. We’ll see. One day down. Six to go. As unplanned as these next days are anything can happen. At least I was able to fix my mother-in-laws cable TV in her rec room. I’m at least a hero in that regard. And I started to ask her a few things about my wife. I’ll continue that tomorrow and we’ll see where that takes us. It’s amazing that I am here. It adds to the surreal element that is now my life. It’s difficult to get used to.

Written Monday, October 14, 2019 / Day 63 / Evening Feelings these days are all over the place. As I finished night 2 of a relatively “Normal” night of eight hours of sleep I was feeling a tiny bit of “settledness” (not a word but I keep using it). As I prepared this day for tomorrows trip to Buffalo I have a combination of strange, weird and surreal. Sadness crept in a few times today as I ran into things that set off the triggers of past memories. I caught myself most times with the understanding that I was not quite ready to go down those paths as of yet. All in all, the preparations were a distraction. Sending messages to those I hope to see when there - not really planning anything too tightly which goes against my nature. My nature though is under siege right now meaning that some of the things I start to do really can not be done at the present. I am so out of it I headed out to the bank and post office only to find that they were closed. It is Columbus Day today. Missed that one by a mile. Just another reminder of where my mind is. So I redoubled my review of trip preparations to make sure I have not forgotten some major element. I received a call today from the Bon Secours Hospice that runs the grief support groups. I had discussed with the Writing group coordinator that I might be interested in their loss of a spouse group but because of my trip I would miss the first session so I was not sure that would be ok. I neglected to mention this to the coordinator at the last writing group session so I thought that was the end of it. The call today confirmed that it was not. I mentioned my absence this week and the coordinator was ok with that. So there will be 5 sessions beginning on the 24th of October from 2 to 3:30 at the same location as the writing group. I took this as an indication I should probably go. I was ok either way - perhaps my current ambivalence to everything was at work there. So I continued through the day - wrapping up things, preparing the house. My son and his family will be at the Baptist Church’s Special Needs yearly retreat in Lynchburg this weekend - leaving Thursday and returning Sunday. The coordination was perfect (although I know who is really coordinating this). We will both be taken care of so that is reassuring. Plus this is the Feast of Tabernacles week (starting today) . The annual celebration of God’s millennial reign. Something I won’t explain here but a time of deep meaning to my wife and I. The fact I am away during this time is also quite comforting to me. But the pulls of despair are all around me. They feel less in a way - perhaps all the focus on the trip has reduced their power. But there is the emptiness in the background. Every time it comes I plead to God to turn those emotions into strength to honor her. So as I wind down, put the last elements in place I am experiencing my current kind of calm. It’s not normal, regular calm - sort of like a pot on a slow boil - it’s the lack of deep intensity that is welcome. Feelings that are incompatible fighting for a place in my heart. We’ll see what this trip does for them. It’s going to be a wild ride of emotions - but one that is necessary. A trip of mixed feelings. And my dear sweetie at the heart of all of them.

Written Sunday, October 13, 2019 / Day 62 / Daybreak It was the second night of the experiment - sleeping in the guest room. It really felt like I was traveling since this was a room I never slept in. So the atmosphere was not heavy. I tried to follow a conventional schedule but as it turned out I went to bed around 11:30. The strange thing was - I actually slept through in somewhat a “normal” pattern. The usual bathroom trips were a part of it - but in general it was a textbook night. Wow. That was interesting. Now the really interesting part. I had a dream. The unusual part of that is I have not been aware of any dreams in this journey. There was one early on - it was short vivid and touched my heart in such a way that I can remember every part of it - even now. In that one my Joann was laying down - she was the most radiant that I could imagine. We were face to face and exchanging a few intimate comments I would always initiate. It was short - powerful and - as dreams sometimes are - incredibly vivid. Then I woke up. Last night was a dream dripping with metaphors. Like I said dreams - that I can recall - have been non-existent up to now. In this dream I was traveling with two women in a car. We were in an area that we somewhat were familiar with. One of the women was my mother. The interesting thing here is that I never dream about my mother - that I can recall. She just doesn’t show up. We are traveling down streets in somewhat an urban setting. I was not sure where we were going - it was sort of like a free time we were just looking around the area. That is something I always like to do - explore new places. I would like it when I had to travel for work - that was the case earlier in my career but not so much in recent times. I always liked going places I had never been and trying to figure out where to go and see new things. So we are in this car and driving out of the urban area and came to this gigantic “T” in the road. To the left was the developed side - to the right a rather open area with buildings in the distance that looked rather old and there were construction vehicles moving around and stirring up clouds of dirt. The first inclination was to go left - but then I saw cars also driving which meant that traffic was active there despite the construction. So we turned right towards the construction. As we moved through the area there were older buildings that seemed to be in various states of rehabilitation. Then as dreams do - the scene shifted where we were walking past the buildings. There were wide sidewalk areas and here and there - other people in the area also walking. My mother was in the background behind us and I was walking with this other woman. We were talking about the construction, the style of the buildings and as we saw the renovated sections - marveling at how nice the new sections were. Fine stone and other materials that were of great quality were a part of the new sections. As we continued on - I was holding her hand. As is the case in dreams I could not remember her face other than it was happy and her mood upbeat. As we walked, there was water on the ground like it had rained but it had not. It seemed that this was a part of the newer environment. A vast plaza was to the right with sparkling new buildings and an inch or two of water on the ground was everywhere. Some other people were around - enjoying the water on the ground with some buildings in the background actually having fountains with water spilling out into the plaza where the people were. My mother was behind us but I lost track of where she was and was concerned we would become separated. My companion and I were walking along the sidewalk - with the water at our feet which was also the bank of a river. As the walkway continued up ahead the river was starting to be a little less calm and I was concerned as we walked towards it. My companion took off her shoes and wanted to walk for a short time on the other side of the small barrier at the edge of the riverbank. She was delighted doing this and the only conversation I remember was asking her how the water felt. She was beaming - enjoying the experience. As we continued on - I reached over and held her next to me as I was concerned she might slip. And then I woke up. The pitter-pat of raindrops on the bedroom window. The sunrise was in progress. It was 7:30. With the dream fresh in my mind I also marveled that I felt strangely - rested. That is a rare occurrence these days. As I contemplated the dream I just awoke from - I thought some might say I was getting a message from “Beyond”. I would not argue with anyone - but the Bible does say that the dead are awaiting the resurrection as they sleep (1 Thessalonians 4:16, Ecclesiastes 9:2,10, John 11:11 to name a few references). But the Bible also says that God communicates with us through dreams. Refer to Matthew 1:20 - Joseph’s dream about Mary, Genesis 41:1 Pharaohs dream for two examples. Whatever this was it was quite disarming in light of where I have been. Dripping with metaphors of new paths, rebuilding and relationships it will be something to ponder. The fact that there was a night of restful sleep is quite encouraging. I will enjoy camping out in the guest room to continue the experiment and see where this path takes me.

This is Volume 3 of Essays on Grief. To follow the full journey, reading Volume 1 - The First 30 Days and Volume 2 - One Day at a Time will take you to the point in time in which these essays begin. This volume covers some of the most intense days of this journey - which says a lot coming from where this series began. There can really be no assessment of where I am - I am the most likely person to be able to make that observation but profoundly incapable of being able to do that at the present time. Your bravery continues as you choose to join me in these essays. There is a combination of numbness and detachment in my world of grief. Apparently a protection mechanism from what I can tell. My longing for what has been taken from me is constant yet diverted by the obligations of the day and other activities. However, I do not choose to do anything in particular. I still cannot fathom how life will be without my dear sweetie by my side. But I do know that a day will come when life will be understandable. At this time - that is not the case. The essays continue to come - so I write them. As long as they do they will drive this writing and at some background level - my life. You are about to now join me in the most unexpected days of my life. My life where the future is not possible, the past is toxic and the present just a haze. This world of grief is like that. Your desire to join me here touches my heart. And for that I will always be grateful for your love and bravery in joining me.

Written Tuesday, December 31, 2019 / Day 141 / Afternoon “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” If I did not know any better, I would think Charles Dickens was not only talking about London and Paris, the rich and the poor and the society of the day - but that he was also speaking about the state of grief. On this final day of the calendar year of 2019 - I am struck at my worst of times that I now live in. The world that the observers see me in - and then retreat from it just as I used to do in my pre-grief life. Because those of us now living in grief are frozen in time. The calendar keeps ticking away - the world and all of our closest relationships that we have are living out their patterns, their routines, their cycles. While we live out our days in this truly inhospitable place. Depending upon how long we have lived here - we have adapted somewhat. We had to. There really was no other option for us. Adapt to what actually? To the emptiness of our world that is missing what made it our world. To the relentless pattern of life that we must navigate in a hollow and superficial way. To the connection that has now been disrupted. The link that has been severed. The connection to what really was our life. To all these elements and more - we have endured. And endure we do. And to some degree adapted. Recently I have had the realization that these worst of times have had free reign over me. I have been subjected to the worst of perhaps every emotion that I can identify. And beyond that - into a netherworld of awfulness that is beyond words. This realization has prompted me to come up with a conclusion. A rather practical one when I look at it. The conclusion is very simple. Stop it. Yes, I said to grief and its friends - stop it. Just stop it. That’s enough. I continually reflect on the blessings I have amidst this place of grief - these worst of times. They are numerous and comforting in their own way. They do not - have not - been able to stop the worst of times from being their absolute worst. They can’t. But I can. So as the calendar changes to new numbers and words - I am also changing. Changing to reject the worst of times as they attempt to take me to their home. I refuse to go there. I had to find something that my wife was using today and opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom she was using because it has a nice walk-in shower. I opened the cabinet door and stared. Here she was. Here are her things. Things she used. Things that were a part of her. I began to gasp. I could see where I was heading. Then a thought hit me. No. No - I am not going to go there. You things are not going to do this to me. I am not going to do this to me. What purpose does it serve - other than to make me sad? So I told the worst of times to take a hike. I am done with this. And so it will go. I have a resolve to face the worst of times as it comes to greet me. I have many encounters ahead of me. I have great barriers to overcome in life without my sweetie. Opening a door or drawer and seeing her things - is just too much for me right now. I can feel the bottom falling out of the floor. A giant shaft of despair awaiting me if I choose to fall in there. But I will not go there willingly. If there are emotional roads to take that have to be taken for some unfathomable emotional reason then I will take them. But those unnecessary side-trips - I will not be taking those - if I have anything to do with it. I just won’t go there. My prayer is that I will leave my winter of despair, my season of darkness. Leave them behind. That God will answer my continual prayer of turning my grief into strength. That is the season I long for. The struggle then will continue. I have recently completed putting these Essays on Grief on their own website. I pray that there is some comfort for others who are struggling like I am. I know I have found comfort in the testimonies of those living in their states of grief. In completing this enterprise - I am finding a strange comfort. It is somewhat undefinable as so much in this world seems to be - but the comfort that I am detecting is hard to ignore - it appears to be very real. So to the worst of times I say - I’ll be seeing you. No wait, I really do not want to see you at all. I want to leave you. Leave you behind. And venture towards the very humble beginnings of the better times that are ahead.

Written Friday, December 13, 2019 / Day 123 / Morning Looking back is a skill I try to improve upon. Looking back to see what has unfolded but not too much regarding certain times. Yet in my world of no particular future at the moment - the past is all that is there. The present time is what it is. It is about the day and what absolutely has to be done in it. Often there is no energy or desire for much else. Realizing as I did the day before Thanksgiving that I am now the curator of the museum of my life. It is not open to the public for within it there is not much the public could ever want. It is the museum to my dear sweetie and I. The things we acquired - the numerous gifts we received from so many - and of course - the memories of our life that now haunt me if I allow them that access. As curator I know what my job is. Some of my duties bring on additional sadness for the elements that mean something only to my dear sweetie and me - and to no one else. Those are difficult things to deal with. My other duties involve identifying what actually has meaning and should be passed along. There is not a whole lot there as far as I can see. But that may change as my perceptions improve over time. Then there are the elements that just need to go. Things that really were only here to support us. And when the day comes that there is no one else to support - those things can move on. Some of them I will identify and dispose of - others will just have to hang around for the final disposition team to address. The family history project is aiding those efforts since in ferreting out the materials for the history I am invariably running into thing of the other categories. Some are easy choices, others will be deferred. In reality - most of them are not needed. And items that were part of a future path - well those are a bit toxic to me. They will have to hang around until I have the strength to address them. These two areas of focus - the family history project and museum curator at least have emerged to provide a bit of purpose. Both of these areas point to a very sensitive thing for me right now - the future. Let’s say they are advance emissaries to that coming time where I will operate fully in the future. For now - an occasional glimpse is all I can really stomach. This past month’s journey is hard to assess. All I know is that for now - the focus is on the day to day and will continue to be. Until one of these days - I run into that future that is waiting for me.

Written Thursday, December 12, 2019 / Day 122 / Early Morning Funny thing about being oblivious about something - the very definition of the idea means you have no idea of what is going on. What a paradox - the situation or thing is there right in front of you - but it is not visible to you. And there you are right in front of it! The idea here is really quite deep. The concept of obliviousness was driven home to me recently. The realization was based on - what appears to me - a totally mundane issue. The scope of my current situation in direct contrast to how trivial this problem was. Back in 2007 we took on the task that we wanted to accomplish for so many years - renovating our kitchen and its attached living space. We were blessed to find a remarkable general contractor who smoothed out all the inevitable issues that are bound to arise during such a project. We even had the windows replaced. In the living area, there had been wooden shutters there which we had just lived with for years. After the remodeling we removed the shutters. Now we had a dilemma - for us anyway - what to do with the opening. We did not want shades and other options so we just did nothing for the moment. As a temporary fix we found a couple of spring rods and my wife had two curtain panels that fit in the spring rods which provided the covering we wanted until we came up with a solution. So the drill would be every evening to put up the spring rods and in the morning when we got up, pull then down for the day. Well, life then reved up and dealing with those curtains fell to the bottom of the priority list. For months and months. I started to dislike the task and would complain regularly about those drapes. Could there be no other solution? We seemed to be afraid of the new windows. They had a plastic frame and the thought of drilling into that frame seemed risky. So we never went there. In the present day - when I was trying to live my days in this new state of grief, beside grief and its friends - those spring rods were with me every day. In my motivation to do everything differently I declared that those spring rods would have to go! So I bought a pair of those temporary paper shades that are used during renovations. They just adhered to the frame and provided a welcome relief to my daily spring rod ritual. Then I happened to find, while cleaning out some things, a pair of cellular shade we had bought on super markdown. The thought was we would use them some day but never did. I was curious about whether the shades would actually fit in those windows. To my surprise when I put them up to the window - they covered the glass perfectly! Then I looked at the bracket and the window frame that we had though was so fragile. I thought let me give this a try. It didn’t take long to do and the result was amazing. They fit! The brackets went in to the plastic frame without a problem. And the shades look so nice. I actually have a rare positive emotion every time I look at them. The irony here is - I put those spring rods up and took them down - for twelve years! Twelve years? Are you kidding? What was wrong with us? Me? How did I allow myself to not look into a solution earlier? What was going on here? Obliviousness. Endless obliviousness as it now appears. The solution was there - I just did not expend the energy to look into one. Life had taken over and looking into things like that took time. Time which I was not willing to invest - for twelve years? Every time I think of this I am just incredulous about my own stupidity here. Or whatever it was. It was extreme obliviousness. So this begs the question - and an unsolvable problem for sure - what else is holding me back that I am oblivious to? My current world has flushed my pre-grief life down the proverbial toilet. It is gone. Perhaps those assumptions that kept me from looking at those spring rods were part of that. Who knows? The problem with understanding the concept of obliviousness is quite the paradox. Based on its very nature this means I am not currently seeing what the obvious limitations to my life are. They could be right in front of me - like those spring rods - and I could not see them if I wanted to see them. It is quite a revelation. So my take away on this is that I must challenge anything I have established as a reason for not doing something. I must examine those ideas to see if they are really preferences or are the preferences masquerading as limitations? Blockages that exist in my own mind that are keeping me from advancing? This seems to be significant as far as the state of grief is right now. My world right now could not be any simpler. I can have it no other way because I cannot process life right now. But every time I look at those new clean, fresh cellular shades, the little bell in my head goes off. “What else are you being oblivious to?” Is what they say to me. It is an insight that can benefit all of us. Not that I want that future that I currently reject today any more than I wanted it yesterday. But when it ever comes and I somehow can operate in it - I will always remember those spring rods. And their elegant and positive solution. I am at least now aware that I am oblivious. To something else. And my prayer is that the future that does await me is as uplifting and positive as those silly little cellular shades are to me today.

Written Tuesday, December 10, 2019 / Day 120 / Morning Grief is all consuming - overpowering. At the beginning of this journey it was irresistible. When grief arrived everything stopped. It had to. All the energy in the room was absorbed in this massive moment where everything that had happened, everything that was and everything that was to be all collided in a tremendous flash point of emotions that there are not words to describe. And that was on a good day. The endlessness of this experience is quite humbling. There are no absolutes in grief. The only one is that grief is something that now must be dealt with for the rest of my life. As the weeks and months rolled on it became clear who was in charge here. Grief. And of course griefs entourage of negative emotions. It is quite an army that comes to enter your new dark world. When I returned from the Buffalo trip in October - there was a new level of anguish and relief. Both seemed to go together but the price for any relief was an astounding period of intensity that I dare not even mention since it was so off the charts. That is one of the realities of grief and life as well. We declare something the best or worst. We do that all the time. “Well that was the best pizza I ever had!”. Now obviously you had not been keeping a diary of your pizza experiences so you could look it over and make that conclusive declaration. No what you were actually saying was that it was the best pizza you can remember ever having. We do that with so many situations - both good and bad. The point here is that our declarations are subjective. Based on the moment - and most importantly - based on our feelings. What strikes us at the moment. And in those moments we declare superlatives that mark our experiences. Are they actually what we say they are? We think so. Here is the reality - there are always better or worse situations and experiences ahead of us than we have declared in the present time. I had my first job and it was a miracle that I found it. Perhaps that’s another essay at some point but suffice it to say that job lasted 5 years and was the basis for my career advancement. It was difficult at times and towards the end became terrible in all the ways a job can become that way. All the ways that make you look for a new one. So as I began the next job I remember declaring, “Well this job will never be as bad as the last one was!”. Wrong. There are all kinds of bad. And I found new types of bad I could have never anticipated in that next job. The point here is that everything is a spectrum. Infinite in both directions. If you feel you have experienced the best and worst of anything - get ready for a news flash. There’s so much more waiting - on both ends. As I continue this journey and see both the ever so slight changes in intensity in certain areas I am beginning to think about priorities. Grief showed up and quite obviously became the number one priority in my life. My life was grief-centered. It is all I could think of because it occupied my entire spirit, my world and anything I could ever dream of connecting to. Grief was there to be the bouncer - the doorman of my life. And it was a tough one. I gave grief a persona. An identity. And then I proceeded to tell it off. To leave me alone and don’t let the door hit you on the way out. That has in no way eliminated grief at all - but I am noticing a gradual diminishing of the intensity of the moments I am having. Don’t get me wrong here - they are still supremely awful. They are empty and hopeless and demoralizing. They are still there. In the nebulous future that awaits me - one I do not desire, nor care about or embrace at the present time - I do see something different. This contrasting thought process is tiring at times. It is one of the themes running in the background of my life. In that future I sense that my grief will still be there - but relegated to a secondary position. Perhaps one even less prominent than that. Like yesterday’s newspaper you have already read and has now become irrelevant because now it is outdated. So will grief become to me. My dear sweetie has nothing to do with grief. Grief is just an obnoxious football fan that is overcome with emotion for the game beyond their ability to see how infantile they have become. Grief has had its moment. There was a loss. Yes. A gigantic tectonic loss. A loss that cannot be comprehended. Yet that was yesterday’s news. My sweetie may not be here right now - but I know she is waiting. She could not be in better hands. If you have read previous essays you know why that is. Grief is not her - grief was trying to be her. But it is not. It is just grief. And its days are numbered. Yes it will still be there - it is a part of my history now. But grief is not my life - even though grief wants me to think that way. Yes I am saddened. Saddened beyond what I can endure at times. But you know what? I am enduring. God has me and always will. He has been by my side - think Psalm 23 here. There is no God in grief. None of the fruits of His spirit are there. But He is with me. And those fruits while not around me - are within me. Grief has been an extension of my situation - but it is not my life. It never was - it only made me think it was. The love I still have for my dear sweetie is what I want my strength to be. Because it has been my strength for 47 years. It is what allowed me to survive all that came against it - either externally or by my own silly human spirit - and it is still with me. Because there was something greater than me in my life. Something where the love I had and still have for her has comes from. The real number one in my life. The Shepherd who leads me in this valley I must travel through. His love will make my path clear when the time comes. I don’t have to worry about when or how. Just that it is. The real number one in my life that has always been there. And always will be.

Written Monday, December 9, 2019 / Day 119 / Morning There is no stability in the state of grief. At least so far in my journey that has been the case. There have been periods of relative calm, times where I almost think that I could say the word “stable” and really believe it. Then without warning that stability is shattered. Often it has been an innocent gesture - innocent in the sense that I was not purposely thinking about my past life or any element of that time. Actually for now, I really try to not do that since it often leads to where I do not want to go. Besides that change in tone - there is an unknown period of intensity that surfaces at various levels. It comes in waves it seems and depending on where that moment falls on the intensity scale - it is either totally disarming or moderately unsettling. Either way it is not a good time. Of course the theme is the loss. And not just the loss but the implications of the loss. The central loss for sure - that is at the epicenter of it all. But then there are the secondary losses. In my case those secondary losses have quite a large scope. Because in my case my wife and I had a very close relationship. Not only emotionally but physically. I have written in previous essays how she was my life - literally. I could spend my time with no other one (obviously except for employment and necessary other responsibilities) nor would I have ever wanted to. That’s the way it is with someone you adore the way I adore her. So the grief associated with these secondary losses comes quite regularly. And the topics are quite varied. Let’s see, well just about everything could be a topic of lamenting and mourning. I think, if I have to visit each one - this will take a while - quite a while. And then I snap out of it in a sense and say - no it does not have to be that way. Yes I am missing half of my life - perhaps more. Okay, yes that is a lot to lose. But does each secondary loss have to beat me up so much? Logic and knowledge do not have any place to live in grief - emotions are calling the shots based on whatever generates the energy they release. So whenever it comes it just comes. Lately though, as I have been attempting to do with so many other aspects of this journey - I have become a bit more aggressive with my sessions. If they are artifacts I proclaim, “You are not going to take me to a place of sadness!”. Not that it stops the sadness completely but it seems like I am at least trying to do something. Because the sadness is just tiring. It is discouraging. It is negative. It is just so sad. But then I tell myself - “Enough of this! I want to honor my dear sweetie by not being such a mess!”. And if there is a certain amount of sadness that is required passage through this state of grief - so be it. But I am going to resist with all of my might going to an awful, dark place about whatever the situation of the moment tries to invoke. These flashes of the past - these echos are haunting, compelling. Compelling because my sweetie is there. And it represents a time of the past when we were together. But then the reality of the present lands straight on the center of the reflection - crushing it into little pieces. And there I am like a 5 year-old that just broke their favorite toy. Right, that’s me. My prayer continues to be that the power of the grief I feel, that overwhelming helplessness that descends upon me at these moments would be turned into strength and power. Power to honor my sweetie by being strong in the memory of the love we had - the love I still have. And that power lifts me above the sadness. A lot of that is because we knew what is ahead - and I know she is at peace awaiting the resurrection Paul speaks of in 1 Thessalonians 4:16. There is tremendous comfort in that. So as I move carefully ahead, day by day, I will be alert for those echos of the past. I want them to be beacon of hope instead of a dark pit to fall into. And in a way that is subtly happening. The overwhelming intensity of those moments has significantly subsided. So in that there is hope. Now to survive the trip as I continue. And relish in the goodness of the echos of the past and the love that was a part of them.