Search Results

Written Sunday, January 12, 2020 / Day 153 / Afternoon A thought that has permeated my life from the beginning of this journey is that everything has to be new. I have proved to myself that there is little of my past activities that can survive in my new reality. There is a pain that cannot be described in most of them that will not be tolerated or desired. So this theme of something new has been in the background of every day. For the few things that have carried over - I approach them in a totally new way. Park differently at stores - go in different doors. Anything that can be done differently is the goal. When that cannot happen - that objective is just flushed away. It has to be. Eight weeks ago it had been constantly in my mind that I needed to find a local group to embrace. How to do that I did not know. As the analyst of course, to arrive at a solution - would take a fair amount of analysis. Work to discern what seemed appealing, relevant, helpful and at least not obviously offensive to my sensibilities. When I got to about the eight week ago time - I had settled on two churches to select. After the final prayers and conclusions I decided on an objective. Now the question - when do I go. I wanted the first time to be in the new year so I looked to see what date that would be. January 12th stuck out and slapped me. Of course, that would be the fifth month anniversary. Not that these monthly anniversaries are emotionally devastating or anything but the relevance to my analytical perspectives was striking and meaningful. January 12th it would be. So I went in to training. Each Sunday getting up with a bit more of a purpose that usual with the idea that I would be having to get into a new habit. I even watched other churches streaming web services (some ok some not so much but somewhat helpful for the mood). Each Sunday I would declare - in so many weeks I will be going. Amazingly the time came. The day had arrived. I had my outfit prepared, materials to take ready - the plan for the morning in place. Then time came to execute that plan. I was not apprehensive in any way. The only concern I did have was meeting new people and not immediately having to dump my pathetic situation on them. That was really the only concern I had. But I prayed that if I was being led to this - that concern would not be a problem. The people were warm - the greetings sincere. I did not know who I was meeting - turns out many of them were the elders of the church who you would hope would be in the forefront of greeting. The pastor came by and introduced himself. He was warm and energetic. On his way in he was heartily greeting those in the congregation. He seemed to be a leader. This was encouraging. The service was unique in many ways that were touching to me. Prayers for their sick by their elders, very sincere and energetic preaching and several other unexpected ways things were done. There was the “band” that a lot of churches have today. I am not a fan of most pop Christian music - it seems a little mindless to me. This music though seemed a little deeper - a bit richer. The songs were encouraging and many of the words touching to me in my present situation. The church preaches verse by verse though the Bible. This was also compelling to me as the Bible study Joann and I conducted for 8 years did just that. It made the sessions more grounded and less susceptible to going off track and causing problems. But what got to me was not anything that happened - nothing of what took place was uncomfortable in any way. As seems to happen to me - the symbolism of things - the way they line up - the “coincidences” some might say that happen are what hits me directly. Knowing that there are really not any “coincidences” in life - the timing of this day and this new beginning were striking to me. I am thankful I did not break down when I realized it. Here I was at the “new thing” in my life. It was happening on the fifth month anniversary of the worst day in my life. The end of the life I knew and long to have back. And the service time was 9:45 am. This was the time my life ended five months past. My “new life” so to speak would be beginning at that same time. It is a life that I do not actually want. I have no desire for it as I have written in past essays. But it is the life that has started - like it or not. God looked down and winked at me. And I knew His hand was on this moment. I am being taken somewhere and just so I know it is just not my random choice - the symbolism is there to remind me that there is something ahead. And I have just taken the first step to go there.

Written Friday, January 10, 2020 / Day 151 / Evening When I use to travel for business I always enjoyed flying to new places. It was interesting to arrive at new locations, airports and hotels. For some reason these excursions were stimulating to me. There was only one problem - I had to take these trips alone. Once in a great while there might be others in the staff that had to travel with me. We might have been attending training classes or on company business. On those trips it was a bit more enjoyable in that there were others along sharing the adventure. When I did travel alone though - there was one element of those trips that I dreaded - one of the most distasteful - that element was eating alone. “Table for one….” Would be the worst thing I could hear. Back in those days before there were electronic distractions that would make us appear that we were being occupied - I actually used to take books with me. It was an art to take just the right book to be my companion when I would be dining. Just big enough to fit comfortably with me at the table. Just flexible enough to allow the book to open comfortably. Just readable enough to keep me occupied throughout those awkward moments alone. It took a good amount of coordination to be able to eat while reading the book - or even a magazine if I was daring - while the meal was progressing. Now I find that eating alone is somewhat distasteful even at home. It is one of those new aspects of the state of grief I find absolutely unacceptable. Yet one that I must face. Of course at home, television is the main distraction. My sweetie and I would eat with a few programs that we enjoyed together as a third companion during our meals. We would comment on the show when it made sense - but generally we were contented to have that shared distraction when we wanted it. Now it is part of the long list of things that used to be that are no longer. Part of the things that haunt rather than help. Actually I am finding that I can now not watch any of those programs that we used to watch together while eating. Something about those shows is uncomfortable - unsettling. So they have also been put aside. Relics of the past life that is no more. Replaced by new programs that are solely mine, Shows that have little or no connection to the me of the past. That past I long to restart - that past that is now forever gone. Eating out alone now - is strictly not possible. Early on I did it several times. I believe the shock I was in allowed that to happen. Now I can not stomach the idea of being alone in a restaurant by myself. It just is not possible. Perhaps it will never be. That is one of the elements of the past that was the same. Unless forced to for business reasons - it just did not happen. One of my last trips to Ohio for business - I picked up items and ate in the room. It was a prelude to this current time when being alone would be the new reality. It brings up the idea of being alone which I have written about previously. Only now - that idea is still quite prominent in my mind. The idea that it is undesirable and distasteful. I marvel at how many people are alone like it is a normal thing. For me - being new to the alone circle - I just can’t make it make sense. Certainly I am stuck with it for the moment. But I just cannot accept the idea. Much the same battle I am having with grief. Of course grief will win the overall battle. For now it has the upper hand. I am alone and that is just that. But accepting that reality? Well I will go - but kicking and screaming. It just bothers me. And it will continue to. Being a party of one - is just no party at all.

Written Wednesday, January 8, 2020 / Day 149 / Morning When you eat something satisfying you know it. You know it because when you are done you are no longer hungry. But there are other items - those items that seem so appealing, so potentially satisfying but after you eat them - they just leave you wanting more. It is food that seems like food - but food that does not satisfy. Food that just doesn’t do it’s job. In this world of grief - one of the many of the seemingly endless things to contend with is the ongoing feeling of emptiness. This is not the emptiness I knew of in my pre-grief life. In that world there was emptiness at times - but that emptiness was not sustained - it lasted only for a period of time. In those days, you might have been missing something for a while - but in the end, those moments of emptiness could be resolved in some way. We faced that when we moved from our home of Buffalo, New York in 1987. Our lives changed dramatically. Suddenly all those relationships that were local - became remote. All those interactions that were relatively close - were now excruciatingly distant. So distant that they could not be easily restored even for a short time. In that situation they were displaced. Removed - still somewhat accessible but in a different way. They could be re-established with a good amount of effort and planning - but they were generally unavailable on a daily basis. Such was the situation with anything that is lost. In most cases there is a way to reconnect. Those losses are generally not permanent. In the world of grief however - the new reality is painfully real. This emptiness takes you to an entirely new level. A new level of loss that is just difficult to grasp. I know - because I regularly cannot hold on to that reality all that well. It seems to happen because this reality is just not desirable. It is not wanted. But unfortunately - it is the reality that must be faced. The reality of emptiness. Those outside - those whose lives have not been operationally rendered inoperable by the loss - struggle to relate. As I have mentioned in previous essays - I was in that exact position. I still had a functioning life (with all of its issues and contentions) so in trying to relate to someone without that reality - it was just awkward and uncomfortable. Out of respect, empathy and caring I can remember struggling with what to do. Generally I reverted to the normal solution - I did nothing. Or very little. I did not want to disturb the person - upset them or be a problem. Little did I know that there was nothing I could do to disturb them, or make them sad or uncomfortable - they were already living with those feeling - every day. Every minute. I now symbolically kick myself for my past inactions. I know I could not have known any better. But perhaps you - the reader of this essay might be able to do what I did not have the capability to do. To contribute in some small way to disrupting the emptiness of the life those of us in the state of grief must face. We know there are no answers. The cold hard unemotional view is that you will get used to this. You will emerge with a new life. You will “move on”. I feel that perception all around me. And I can’t stand it. Can’t stand it at all. It might be true - it might just be what will happen. As humans we do adapt to anything. So I know in a physical sense that is true. But in the emotional world - aided by the non-godly, desperation-laced state of grief that is our new reality - the connections, the values, the history and all that makes up the closest relationship you could have ever been blessed to experience - those elements are no longer there. They are gone. And then grief comes along to rub it in - it asks, “So where are you?”. I do not know exactly - but the continual emptiness is just there. The obligations of the day come along and are a distraction from the painful truth. In those moments come surprising episodes where you get a flash to the pre-grief world. You feel settled. You feel whole. You feel loved. And then you don’t. Welcome back. Welcome back to emptiness. It is somewhat of an oxymoron - as the GPS would say, “You have arrived at your destination.”. But when you look out to see where you have arrived at - there is just nothing there. Just shadows of the past. Yes there are the memories. But they can be taunting in their allure. They take you back - but those trips are only temporary. They are satisfying for the moment you are having them. But they do not really satisfy. They do not help in a real sense. This morning I restated my theme of this journey. I want to be strengthened by the memories. I do not want to go to a place of sadness. The memories I have remind me of the incredible love God gave us to share. We both knew that is what we had. It was not some superficial Barbie & Ken relationship. It was a relationship that was welded together. By traumatic event. By life’s trials. By all that takes place in this broken world. It was a representation of God’s love. He gave it to us. And as I recollect on that love - I tell the room - “Your love is not sad! It is not miserable. It is good. Your love has saved us. Your love saved my sweetie and me. Your love gave us life. I want that love to do that for me now - even though she is not with me at the moment.”. I know this can happen. It has not happened yet. But it will. God’s love is the answer to my grief. I know the One who has conquered death. He has the victory. It is the victory that I am claiming for me in this life. His love will give us life in His Kingdom. He is greater than this emptiness that we must contend with. He has filled it. Filled it with His love. His love will do that for me - and for you. That is what He will do. Fill the emptiness that tries to dominate me - with the love that I have tasted - the love that I know. The love that I have lived and had wrapped around me and my sweetie for 47 years. The love that conquers the emptiness. The love that satisfies.

Written Tuesday, January 7, 2020 / Day 148 / Late Evening The contradiction of the phrase “going nowhere” really fits my life at the moment. Today was the sixth day of my self-imposed exile to try to rid myself of the vestiges of my December sickness. It’s that leftover cough and congestion that was not going away. Perhaps I overreacted to the entire thing but I did not want to relapse and get something worse. My poor neighbor was diagnosed with double pneumonia (both lungs) and she had said she felt fine. I was feeling fine, hmmmmm. I approached my exile as a full fledged cold - which it was not. I pulled out every trick my wife had taught me. Day after day I just went full force. Monday night was a bad evening for some reason. But gargling with warm salt water (one of her tricks which works quite well) in the early morning brought on a glorious period of sleep which felt like a healing salve. Woke up at 11:30 quite amazed. I now had the resolve to get a second opinion on where I was - so I scheduled an appointment with a local clinic for mid-afternoon. The results were quite encouraging. Clear lungs, good oxygen levels, bp good and overall condition not too bad. It is just what my overactive imagination needed to hear. It settled me quite a bit and encouraged me to start to plan for total reentry into my minimalistic life on Thursday. So I logged in yet another full week of being totally alone in my totally alone world. I received many calls on my birthday which were encouraging. But as my world has unfolded - there is a shallowness to everything. Life is a lot less satisfying in a sense. Trying to run my life with half a life may have something to do with that reality. If there is a lesson in having two full weeks alone I imagine it is that I got along well operationally. I ran most things before so running things now is not unusual. With my current attitude of not really caring about anything at all it is just a bit too much to take without a diversion or two. I go along for a period of time and then there is just a breakdown. The absurdity of my life now. The constant reminders that she is not here and will never be. The moments that stop me in my tracks. Perhaps they will continue to be - but without something to dilute them - the effects are quite unsettling. So tomorrow I will be celebrating reemergence. Time to peek out of the prairie dog hole and see what’s out there. Finally emerging from below ground to ground level. It’s not exactly soaring with the eagles or anything, but at least now I’ll be able to crawl like I was crawling. When you don’t have much - even a shadow of something is something. So onward I go. Onward to something. When you live where I do that’s almost a goal.

Written Sunday, January 5, 2020 / Day 146 / Afternoon I have been navigating the end of my previous mild illness that has left me with an intermittent background cough. I hear the reports that illness is rampant right now so my idea is to hang in here and get through the remainder of this before heading out there to possibly catch something new. This has relegated me to this isolation chamber once again. A place where I can endure for a while without any outside contact - but where my tolerance for the situation is limited. So here I am in yet another paradox. One within the seemingly nested paradoxes that now make up my life. For all the coping that is taking place - there comes a time where there is just no more that can be endured. So at that point we crash into the valley of everything that is wrong. It is quite a list. As much as I force myself to be positive for the blessings I do have - which are many - the reality that this frozen in time state I am in - is what the “future” will be for the moment - must be the engine of this despair. Others have told me of the intensity of everything diminishes over time but never really ends. This I have already discerned from where I am at the moment. This does not stop the fact there is no way of knowing when the arrival of that least of the least intensity will arrive. For now it remains some unknown distance away from me. Left to myself here - I think I am coping quite well. Then it will happen. I fall into one of the many traps that are everywhere in my life. The absurdity of the situation - being alone, having the monuments to the non-future they represent all around me, connections to my dear sweetie that lurk around every corner - these all conspire to gang up on me. And they take their shots. I pull out the arrows quickly and declare my statements of reality to counteract their attempts to drag me down. Perhaps in these episodes of prolonged isolation due to these relatively mild illnesses (from which I am attempting to deal with before they become anything worse) is a sort of training exercise for me. I wail that I had the most minimalist life possible - now I must have even less. Of course this is normal I’m sure. But one thing I am noticing is that perhaps I will become stronger though this exercise. Like any medicine that makes you wince at its ingestion - this also makes my pathetic collection of elements that make up my life at the moment more prominent. And perhaps in that emphasis - there is a bit of acceptance. There has to be because there is no other path I can take. So it’s day by day - it is not quite hour by hour - the time seems to progress. My evaluation of my situation seems to tell me I am getting physically better. I could probably dose up with over the counter medications and press on - but for the moment the thought is - why? Why indeed. The only goal at the moment is to get back to that neutral state I was in prior to the illness. Strange that the neutral state would be the goal. But it is. In the valley one thing is clear - or at least I hope it is at the moment - this is as far down as I can go. I know that in many ways that is not really true as I have experienced stunning revelations that past worst moments were the ultimate worst moments only to find out that they were waypoints to even more overwhelming awfulness. But for now I will declare this valley the floor. I know that I have help in the midst of all of this. Not to reverse any of this for the moment - but to help me as I travel through the valley. Psalm 23 is like that. It is exactly what I have at the moment. And that is a comfort in this terrible place that I must pass through.

Written Thursday, January 2, 2020 / Day 143 / Morning As I continue to contend with - well, just about everything - the running commentary in my background is: “so what IS this?”. No matter what I do or where I go in my small home I run into the future that will never be. And if I don’t run into that, I run into the reminders of the extraordinary person that became a part of everything that is a part of me. Despite my analytical breakdowns of everything (that I can breakdown) the irreconcilable nature of these encounters is a constant battle. I try to think of it as a medicine - “Well, if I have to have another dose to resolve this seemingly unresolvable moment - then bring it on!”. But then I doubt - “…but wait, if this is just another emotional cul-de-sac I am headed for - I do not want any part of that!”. Of course, there is no way to know the difference. So sometimes it comes and sometimes I try to swat it like a bug you hope to eliminate. Was that the right choice for that moment? Who knows? And I wonder why I am tired! In the cosmic scheme of everything I am well aware that there is an amazing cosmic scheme awaiting me. Awaiting everyone who chooses life over death (Deuteronomy 30:19). But in this transitory time between this broken world and the next step in the plan - the sting of death is just that. If you have ever been stung, or severely pinched or had a traumatic moment that stopped you in your tracks - you understand some of this. An overwhelming amount of pain - concentrated in an initial moment that continues to radiate out in waves that cannot be stopped, tempered or soothed. Pain that runs in the background and along with it an unrelenting anguish that is excruciating. We are not suppose to end this way. We were built for eternity. That is why your age (and your body) tell you one thing - but your mind thinks you are still 21. In a sense now - the fact that I can have this debate, this evaluation of an oncoming disruptive emotional moment - seems like it may be an actual bit of progress of some kind. I originally had the moment and it was a tsunami of emotion which swept in and destroyed the village and everything in it. So to have this retrospective going on as the moments come is quite a surprise. The point I imagine is to just acknowledge the moment and press on to get past it. I am still quite strongly resisting any “future” which I really do not know what that means without my sweetie. Perhaps that will come. I admit it has to but if it is my choice I’ll hide under this rock for now, thank you. Perhaps my spirit that has been crushed by the insurmountable weight of the reality that was thrust upon it will eventually be reconstructed. I know that is not in my power. But that help will arrive when it will arrive. Of that I am sure. And then my prayers of my my grief turning into strength will be fulfilled. And the sorrow I now feel - will have that sweetness that represents everything my dear Joann was to me.

Written Monday, December 30, 2019 / Day 140 / Dawn In the daily struggle that is part of life in the state of grief, one aspect that has emerged lately is belief. Belief is a powerful force in our lives. A sincere, driven belief has propelled many individuals into areas that have been extraordinary. Others whose beliefs are based on false premises have gone on to execute horrible acts in the name of their cherished - but flawed - “belief”. So as my analytical mind struggles with the impossible task of managing my situation by attempting to organize it, study it and understand it - I am currently reflecting on how this basic element of our natures is now affecting me. The conflict is really quite straightforward. An event has occurred. It happened and you know it happened. Now embrace that fact. Sounds great on paper. But played out in the emotional landscape - those simple statements unleash a seemingly inexhaustible flow of torment. They just do not want to go together. Last night I was at the restaurant my wife and I would frequent. It was one of our special places. We did not have that many of them - so the uniqueness of the venue meant a lot to us. As I exited the restaurant with my party I glanced over at the table where we used to camp out. Often times in certain places you stake out “your spot”. I glanced over at ours. Then I could feel the emotional ground quake. I successfully quelled the awakening that was occurring for the moment. But the fuse had been lit. I thought - oh no. I do not want to go there. I do not want to invoke the memories of that spot. All that it meant to us. All the times we enjoyed there. Please do not go there. Yet there she was. All I had to do is go there to meet her. But I could not do it. I resisted. And for the moment the episode subsided. This encounter launched an entire train of thought. Why is this happening? Well, the internal grief counselor inside of me knew the answer. You are mourning the loss. You are hurting. It is still so soon afterwards and because of that these thing will happen. But my analytical nature interrupted - but why? Why do I have to experience this? Is it a step to free me of that heavy emotional wave that seems to come from these moments? Is this “getting me somewhere?”. Even though I really do not want to go anywhere that is away from her. But inside I know I must. “Don’t you believe what has happened?” I ask myself. Yes I believe. I was there. I know. Well, perhaps you actually do not really believe. Obviously there is a layer where belief has not yet penetrated. Some would say this is the “acceptance” element of the journey. The clinical answer would be once you accept what has happened you will then be able to progress to the mythical “moving on” part of the program. This is the moment that the outside observers are expecting. “Oh look, he seems to be “moving on” with his life.” Right. Sure. Well for me - not so much. I do not want - and right now - will not - “move on” from anything that had her in it. So perhaps I’ve answered my own question. The battle is to move on. Reality knocking on the door with its delivery of reality. All I have to do is sign for it. Just sign here, sir, and your life will continue. But continue to where exactly? And why? I’m missing something rather significant here. There is no moving on without it. Sorry. Take your delivery back to the warehouse. I’m not going to sign. Bye. This is where I know that God will be resolving this impasse in some way. Right now it is a Wimbledon Grand Slam tennis series. I’m not sure what part of the tournament we are in - but it is an intense match. Both sides quite powerful in their skill and tenacity. Quite a show. But an exhausting one for me. When will it end? I am not sure - but I do know it will end. I may not be able to accept reality at the moment at some subconscious level - but I do know that an answer will come. That I do know. That is what I believe.

Written Friday, December 27, 2019 / Day 137 / Afternoon As humans we want to figure things out. It is something that drives us. The drive can be so strong that we attempt to figure things out without enough information to really complete the task successfully. But that doesn’t stop us - we will try to figure something out anyway and be very satisfied that we did. Even when the answer is flawed. My very analytical nature is having one monumental trial in trying to figure out my present situation. I know that the situation cannot be figured out. It just can’t. There are forces at work here that are literally beyond us. We live with this in the background of our lives all the time. Perhaps it’s that little voice you hear that encourages you on, or makes you wonder, or presents a bit of fear - or whatever. Our lives are driven by our feelings - the worst possible foundation that you could ever base anything upon. Yet despite our inclination to rely on feelings - we do so - to our own detriment. We know better in a lot of areas. We know from knowledge, painful experiences or personal integrity. We should know that when feelings try to take over - they need to be met with reason and strength otherwise they dominate. And that outcome really is not the best one in the long run. That analytical nature of mine just wants to know. So what is going on here? What is the real problem? Why is there so much instability - sadness, heaviness right now? All that my nature can tell me with certainty is that the intensity I faced has lessened greatly. That is a fact. It can be measured. Yea. But wait, what’s the rest of the story? What does that tell me about today or the future? Well - not much. No matter which way I can look at me right now - I always end up in the same place. Impasse. An impasse is a situation that is so difficult that no progress can be made; a deadlock or a stalemate (according to the web-based Wordnik definition site). That’s about right. No that’s exactly right. So living in an impasse is difficult. Yes it is. That’s my address right now. And the answer? I have written in past essays about my continual logic problem so I will not repeat that here. But it is a constant. The impasse is always waiting for me after I return from an obligation, a task or some diversion that has taken me to a mini-normal moment. At that point the natural reaction is - so now what? And the answer? Well - there is no answer. Life then becomes a series of diversions to keep me away from the impasse. As the analyst my present situation is abundantly clear to me. How I got here - and why I am in this emotional cul-de-sac. Without that future, that horizon - there is nowhere to go - for the moment. On a purely non-emotional, non-invested in the situation perspective the answer seems to be - you have to get used to this change. Accept its reality and set out on a new course. Right. Great. Sounds all terrific from the clinical perspective. But I was the grateful recipient of something beyond measure. Something so valuable to me that I gave my life for it. Something that means more to me than anything in this material world. Based on that reality I cannot see what could move me anywhere in any way. When Neil Armstrong returned from the moon - it had to be the greatest and worst moment of his life. How could you wrap your head around being the first human to set foot on another heavenly body and return? On the other hand, now that he was back - what could be next? Sure there were things ahead for him to do of course - but after that profound moment there would be nothing left on this earth that could equal that achievement. So it is in my world. I possessed an extraordinary gift - one I had to return to it’s creator. And now here without that amazing part of my life - what could be next? Who knows? But I do know someone who does know. And in His time he will let me know. He will resolve the impasse.

Written Tuesday, December 24, 2019 / Day 134 / Midnight This is the fourth day of an illness that has kept me home. It’s been mild - I think - in that I have not felt awful but restricted by whatever each day has in store. I felt it coming and thought I was staying ahead of it but not enough to stop it all from coming. These days it is hard to identify just what we have - but it’s a throat, sinus, cold-ish type of thing. I feel stronger today - just not in a condition to go out. It is encouraging especially since the symptoms have been diminishing and I felt the strongest yet. No nap today was a good sign. But here I am writing an essay at midnight. So there seems to be a message in all this that has to come out. For one thing - throughout these past 4 days I have not felt as depressed and sad as the last time I had something a while back. It has been sort of matter-of-fact. I was blessed to have everything I needed to be sick. Just bought the cutest little humidifier when I found that the one we had was not doing much of a job. Just stocked up on throat lozenges and had a good shopping trip right before it hit. I have been navigating meal preparations although I am not really preparing anything significant. Just heating up things and trying to learn how to time that effort. Writing the family history and setting up the Essays on Grief web site has kept me focused. But it is still lonely. Not grindingly lonely. But I’d say distastefully lonely. I do not like it. I do not know how I will ever really accept it. Not being able to be at my son’s home most nights has added a new wrinkle to this sorry place in which I now live. I am in total physical isolation from everyone. Joann used to feel that way having to be home all day and not being able to get out as she used to. She said it was a nice comfortable - prison. Now I will have to agree. It is nice. It is comfortable. But now it is my prison. Strangely, I am sort of matter-of-fact about this. I see my situation but am bouncing through the days. Bouncing in this nether-world of emptiness that has somehow become familiar - but not welcome. Or accepted. No I may have to live in it - but I do not see myself giving in to accepting it. Perhaps this is some way of asserting myself. Who knows. I just know I probably have at least two more days here like this. My symptoms keep clearing so that is encouraging. If you have ever been in a building where you are on an upper floor and there are floor to ceiling windows you may understand this. When you stand right in the window and look down the height might bother you and you experience a momentary feeling of unsettledness - instability. The sensation that you might be falling before you catch yourself. That is how grief is treating me at the moment. I will stumble on one of the many traps that are laying wait for me throughout the house - I might engage one either on purpose or by invoking a memory - and then it hits. This queasy - weird sensation that is hard to describe. Because instead of feeling like falling - waves of sadness and emptiness come over me. Of course then come the tears and everything else that can come. It is like those moments are waiting. Waiting for their opportunity to strike. Thankfully during this time of isolation they have been in the background. But they are there. It’s like looking across the room and seeing a tiger. He sees you. You both stare at each other but nothing happens. But you know all he needs is the right provocation and he’ll pounce on you in a flash. It’s like that. I imagine in a sense it has been a bit of a training exercise. I have heavily relied on being at my son’s most evenings for dinner. To have that removed took away what little periods of relative peace I had outside of this place. In a day or two - I will be able to return. That will be welcome. Welcome because I do not think I could keep this up any longer. It’s been strange. But then again - strange is normal in this state of grief. This just reminds me of how much I dislike being alone. My prayer is that change will come. And I know it will. Until then I will hold on to the One who holds me up. And thank Him for His strength and help which I know I am receiving in this place of isolation.

Written Friday, December 20, 2019 / Day 130 / Early Afternoon If you have been reading these essays you have found some difficult moments. That’s what my life is made up with at the present time. Moments that are excruciatingly difficult. I have a feeling that this might become one of them. Maybe I am at the point where this will not be so - we will see. Someone at the last support group - knowing that I am writing these essays asked me if I had written a letter to my wife. That question took me back a bit because I had never really thought of doing that. I know how I feel about her and if there was one thing I think I might have done right - I always, always told her. I am writing about her - not only here but in the family history I am now in the process of authoring. Today I’m down with a mild congestion in my throat. Me probably the most boring person on earth right now actually coming down with something. I thought germs might ignore a boring person. Looks like they don’t. As I was trying to rest - this essay apparently became necessary to write. It’s not actually a letter to Joann - but certain elements of our relationship that I seem to need to express. Don’t get me wrong, we had our contentions. Life is like that. Personalities are like that. Sort of like the sparks that are generated when you are filing down some metal you are trying to smooth out - to polish, to create a wonderfully smooth surface. We are human - we are flesh. And along with that comes our human failings. We had them just like anyone else. But that bond that was the foundation of it all - one I have written about previously, was the rock on which our relationship stood upon. I could not help her enough. In every way. Towards the end - that was even more true. I was needed and I willingly gave myself to every need - and more. Perhaps it didn’t hurt that I am an affectionate person by nature. So having that proclivity - I always had an easy target. At times she might not have been receptive due to the issue of the moment - but nevertheless - I would be there delivering a hug or whatever regardless. We were big note leavers. I would leave notes for her to find among her breakfast items after I had left for work. On trips perhaps a card under her pillow.When I traveled for work for many years there would be notes tucked into various places in my luggage and clothes. Of course I’ve saved them as I am also a person who attaches meaning to things. Now those notes I find I saved are a bittersweet reminder of what I am contending with. Losing something so precious to me. I would call her from work when I could - at least during lunch time. And if I got busy from some issue she would call to check on me. It seems like the tears that come are the manifestation of the breakdown of something so close. So personal. Something that was a very part of me. A part that is no longer a part of me. That absence - that void is what the contention seems to be. Usually when something goes missing you can replace it. In this case - there is no replacing something so wonderful - so much a part of - everything. I am seeing that this is where the tears are coming from. I do catch myself more and more. Turning to the One who has the strength I do not have to take me through those moments. He is greater than all of this. I get a grip on this sooner than I used to. The fact that I can even write about these things is proof of some improvement. But there are so many things - when it is everything. What we really achieved in our marriage - was that closeness. Those moments where you didn’t have to say anything at all - to say everything that there is to say. That closeness was wrapped up in a lifetime of struggles and contentions that we faced together. I don’t know if I can say we had more than our share - it sure seemed that way at times. But what we may have lacked in quantity we certainly made up for in quality. Extraordinary contentions in the beginning. Estrangement from our families, employment issues, leaving all of our family behind to move away - issues with things we thought would always be but did not turn out that way and of course illness. In the face of all of that our bond became stronger and stronger. It had to - and it did. Now that I am sitting here in the surreal place that is my life - I still have my part of that bond. It is a part of me and will always be. What is ahead? What time will I have here? Your guess is as good as mine. But while I am here I will record the journey. I will share it to perhaps help someone be able to cope with their incredibly difficult moments. That would be a supreme blessing to me. As I try to settle myself on where God has brought me - I want to put so many things away literally and physically. I want to not live in the past if it weakens me. But the past I will live in is the one in which I can remember what made us strong in the face of all that came against us. And in that strength I will count all the ways that our love brought us through those moments - and will bring me to the future as I rest in His strength. And count the ways I have been and will always be blessed by that love.