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Written Thursday February 6, 2020 / Day 178 / Morning The only absolute in this grief journey was the moment that took me here. As much as I struggle to figure out anything - there is a foggy, nebulousness and emptiness in even the less awful days. In this season of goodbye that seemed to have a very definite beginning - January 24th - I began to glance over my shoulder back to where I have been and arrived at an interesting observation. I can see how things have been unfolding - only when I look backward. I wander through my days taking care of the obligations that require attention. I often just cannot operate for a period of time so I stop, check the weather on TV, assess what I cannot obviously assess at all or just go into a deeper state of neutral - if that is even possible. But in looking back - I do see definite significant events that have occurred. The shadowy world of grief - where all you can sometimes see is the shadow but not what is casting it - leaves a calling card or two of something that actually translates into my tangible world. I look back and see my trip to Buffalo in October - part of me thinks I was crazy - another part of me was driven and another part (this may be why there is so much confusion because I have too many parts right now) - that other part not caring at all about any of it. That trip was necessary for me. Emotionally off the charts and upon my return contentious and painful to an unmeasurable degree. But after that point - the heavy weight of despair that I had been facing was lifted. It just went away. And it has never returned. That was something. Something real. Then the constant thought in the background of my mind that everything must become new in my life led to the exercise of searching for a group to embrace. Finding a candidate - the 8 week journey to that first day was also definite - January 12th. The fifth month anniversary of my life ending. God making it clear to me (Volume 3 - Essay#19 “Newness”) that this date was to mark a new beginning for me. One I still reject and resist but one that was started. Then on January 24th when I wrote the first of two letters - in the morning the one from Joann to me (Volume 6 - Essay #7 “Dear Stephen") and the second that evening from me to her (Volume 6 - Essay #8 “Dear Joann") - those essays unleashed emotions on a level that stunned me in their intensity. Even today I still cannot completely read either of the letters without breaking down emotionally. That is an exercise I am continuing - once I can just read them out loud - that will seem to signify something important. During this period - the prayer I had been praying for three months that these artifacts that are throughout our home, these things of our life together will no longer will make me sad and empty. Then a disarming moment came when I reached for one of her things and in that moment - that item was no longer toxic for me to touch. It was another stunning change - I could touch one of Joann’s things and not have a reaction. All of those “things” that had been affecting me - no longer had any effect. Amazing. The question then looms - what is now ahead? I still have abject emptiness and despair - but at a seemingly reduced level. I have no interest - nor opinion about anything nor do I really care. I reject being managed (which I am not in any way right now - but distasteful of the very idea). I am the president of neutrality right now. The czar of ambivalence. The Potentate of “whatever”. Those things - I know - will change at some point. Of that I am sure. After completing my 4th week of attending with my new group I scratch my head as I am prone to do every day. Wondering - where am I now? To which I answer - right here. Alone, on my own and taking each day as it comes until I see what is next. The only thing I realize now - is that I may not really know when that is - until I look back to see where I have been.

Written Monday February 3, 2020 / Day 175 / Morning In the world I am living in - sadness is a recurring companion. It is one you do not want - but one that is with you wherever you go. Even when sadness is not manifesting itself - it is there. Lurking in the background. Hanging out in the shadows. I just had a moment - totally unexpected as so many of them are. I was going for a pad of paper and found a large one that Joann would use. I opened it up and saw at the top only two words. A title and an item - then nothing. The Title: “Retirement” and under it “People” and under it the blank page. This of course sums up one of the most sorrowful components of my life. The idea that we were going to reconnect with so many people at my retirement. Here was the beginning of her thoughts - poignantly blank as a testimony to the unfulfilled dream. And there it is. Slapping my directly in the face. With all the intensity that it could muster. And I collapsed into an emotional puddle. After regaining my composure - I continued my steps to my next task of the immediate moment. As I reflected on everything - I keep declaring that God’s love is not sad. Yet because I have lost my love reference in this world - I am now profoundly sad at a level that is without definition. The point in my life where love was at its highest - that point where two people - struggling with the reality of the physical, the flesh and all the brokenness that is folded into our lives that we must content with - that point has now been shattered. Now that I am left to operate on my own - I find that exercise overwhelming and exhausting. And sad. Sad for the loss. Sad for the reality I cannot yet grasp. But I do see one thing - sadness and love do not go together. And when sadness sweeps over me with the tsunami of emotional energy - I declare that “Love is not sad!!”. In sorting out sadness and love - I know that the exercise will never be over. Now in the state of grief - the loss is an ever-present reminder of the new reality. The hurtful reality. The empty reality - the sad reality. But then I know that the love I shared with Joann was beyond anything of this world. Yes we had to live under the mess of life we all must contend with. In the background though - was that assurance - that love - and we both knew where it came from. God put it there. For now - my path will be to let love conquer the sadness. I have said this continually that I pray that my grief will be turned into strength. The sadness will not relent. But neither will love. And I know from my past - that it was greater than anything that could come against it. Because the One from whom it is coming is greater than anything that can come against Him. Sadness and love may be a part of my everyday but I know one thing - the greatest of them is love. And will always be.

Written Saturday February 1, 2020 / Day 173 / Evening After what I called the week of goodbye ended Friday with me being sick - I realized that what I was calling the week of goodbye was just the beginning of goodbye. Not being affected by any of the things in the house that were so toxic to me has been a continual wonder as well as a confirmation that something is going on to help me. I sat next to her spot on the couch tonight and just talked out loud to myself. I asked myself the question I keep on asking, “How can I say goodbye?”. Now that I can touch her things again I am no better than my little 3 year old Granddaughter - Hannah. She has her pacifier, and now I have mine. I still am unable to read the letters from and to Joann. I keep thinking I will achieve something if I can do that at some point - I will keep trying. Today, on my way to my son’s, I did something I rarely do. In fact I do not believe I have done it only one other time in all of these weeks. Stop at the cemetery. Interestingly it is on the way to his house - right around the corner in a sense. My sensibilities do not pull me to ever go there. Today there was a reason. The marker we had ordered finally came several weeks ago and I wanted to stop and see what it looked like. So today was the time. There really is not that much to it. Since it is cast metal and one of a kind - there are a multitude of options for embellishment. Joann was so practical I chose what she would have chosen - practical. There was one line on which something could be written. I knew exactly what she would have wanted to have it say. It was a scripture she continually studied. One of the many we continually talked about as God led us to study on our own for almost 24 years. It is what she believed and what I also believe. Her strength in God was her foundation. Sure she had her fears as we all do. I would always comfort her with the assurance that God has us. She knew that. I know that. As I stared at the marker I reflected on the scripture. She would have been pleased with the selection. When I was asked to provide the line - it popped into my mind without me taking any time to think about it. The scripture was always there in my mind - because it was always on hers. It was John 17:3: “And this is the way to have eternal life—to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, the one you sent to earth.” If she could speak to you right now - this would be the message she would give you.

Written Tuesday January 28, 2020 / Day 169 / Evening In this week of goodbye I have been constantly dazzled that something has changed. Where and how will most likely remain a mystery. But there is ample evidence that something dramatic has taken place behind the scenes. It has taken place in this netherworld of emotions that are underlying this state of grief. I can feel the effects - knowing full well that the analytical side of me will never really know what it would like to understand. It has been disarming in a new way. My wife’s untouchable, unaccessible things have become open to my contact. I can touch the things that remain, her pillow, her blankets, everything that was hers - they no longer send me into an uncontrollable tailspin. That is the first marvel. The wonder of this has continued since I wrote her letter to me and my letter to her (Volume 6 Essay #7 “Dear Stephen” and Essay #8 “Dear Joann”) last Friday. Two of the most formidable essays I have ever written due to the difficulty that took place in writing them. Each day I attempt to read them out loud - something I do with all the essays I write. Except for these two - they are unreadable. I cannot read either of them without the most sweeping emotional experience I have ever imagined. I keep trying. It seems that there is something here. I do not know what exactly. But what seems to be the nexus of this is the exercise of saying goodbye. Not just thinking it, or assessing the situation or deciding that I understand it. No, to me this exercise is the very act of writing and then verbalizing the message of goodbye. In all the undefinable qualities that have been my life these past 169 days - this current time is the most undefinable. Yet in this nebulous place - there seem to be very faint connections to my world. And they all have to do with her. I now hold her things and say what I feel out loud. I address her in a way - fully knowing as I have written quite regularly that she is awaiting the resurrection and is currently asleep until that Last Trump sounds. The words I keep saying are, “How can I ever say goodbye to you?”. I rattle off all the elements of my love for her. All that she means to me. How much a part of everything she was and still is to me. This is the current pattern of life. The echo of “…something has changed…’ in the background of every moment. Most days, each step of life just seemed to be achieving the end of that day. Fulfilling the obligations of the day, the places to go. The tasks to complete. On these days, however, we have a new level - of something. The level of less angst. Of less contention. Of less heaviness. Of course - there still is no inkling of a future other than the appointments that must be made or the future tasks that might be planned. No future as I knew it or can really conceive of right now. But in the current - the present - there is something new. Undefinable as it is - these is a physical effect. It is real. It is measurable. It is so welcome. But the question remains - “How can I ever say goodbye to you, my sweetie?”. It is my new song. It is what I have now been asking during this week of goodbye as I call it. As everything that has been unfolding - I am sure there will be an answer to that question. Perhaps when I can read those letters without sobbing. Without crying. Without the deep pain and anguish that they invoke. Perhaps that will be the sign. We will see. I will know when the question changes. When the question becomes, “How do I ever say goodbye to you my sweetie?”. Perhaps only then will I be prepared to accept the answer. When “How can I?” Will be come “How do I?”. And God then supplies the strength for me to do it.

Written Monday January 27, 2020 / Day 168 / Afternoon The only times I left my sweetie were on business trips. Those were occasions that work took me to - some to visit a client, others to participate in training or visit other company locations. Many times others were with me - still others were just me alone. I always enjoyed an aspect of some trips. Going to new places, trying to figure out how to get around. There really was not time to sightsee - but the exercise of finding hotels, locations and other objectives was something I really enjoyed. I was a mini-explorer in one sense. But the part that was difficult was leaving my sweetie behind. As we got older - I would leave notes for her to find in my absence. She would hide hers in my luggage as she would help me pack for the trips. The trips were never all that long. There was a period of time I was traveling to a location in Maine and staying for a week before returning home. Those were difficult times for us as our son was in grade school and my absence for a week would always affect the family in a negative way. It would take a week to recover, then I would have to go again. Thankfully - that time in our lives was not prolonged. As the week of goodbye continues it struck me today what has happened here. Happened in a metaphoric way for sure - but functionally there seems to be the same elements of something familiar. That my life now has the qualities of a business trip. When I took each trip - I had to leave her. That was difficult for both of us. Remember - we came together in a dramatic way. We were forged together even then. Our bond was strong - we actually wanted to be with each other - all of the time. So when a trip would show up on the schedule there was always a bit of angst that would rise up in both of us. Before the days of continual and often oppressive streams of messages - our time to connect was on a daily phone call at night. And it was not all that long - long enough to hear each other and share our temporary sorrow of our separation. But unlike now - I would come home from those trips. And there she would be. Waiting for me. And I so grateful to return to her. The business trip I am now on has so many elements of the past trips. I have to go out on my own. I have work to do that takes me away from her. In this case I do not know how long the trip will be. I cannot call her of course - I can only dream of her. And although the job I am being prepared for is unwelcome, unappreciated and unwanted - I can see the elements of it forming around me. It’s like watching myself on a security camera. I can see a lot of things going on around me - but I am not really sharing in the moments - just observing them unfold. So as I leave for my trip - I have to say goodbye to her once again. It is a painful goodbye. It cannot be any other way. I have taken them before . I will take this one - the trip is already on the books. My passage assured. Alone. A trip I will endure until I can come home to her again.

Written Sunday January 26, 2020 / Day 167 / Afternoon #2 I am calling this the week of goodbye since the theme started last Friday with letters from and to Joann. That has introduced a sort of emotional queasiness to my days - whether part of the process or not I can never tell. Today I had the realization that there was yet one more goodbye to write: Dear Life, We have certainly been through a lot. As I child I really didn’t know who you were. I just lived, explored, got into trouble, played and anything else I could do. But then I grew up and had to struggle with others. Others who didn’t seem to accept me. Some few who did and to the rest - well, I was just some background clutter that never amounted to very much to them. Seeing that I was in some type of isolation I made the best of it. I focused on my own interests as we all do. I went to school - tried my best but always felt like there were others who had it all and I seemed to be one of those who just did not have that special something everyone else seemed to have. As an only child I did not have any brothers and sisters to teach me life’s lessons. I had the girl next door - she was the most like a sister I ever had. We had fun - but when we got older I think she wanted more - but to me I was just her “brother” and nothing more. You took me to business college out of state for two years. Something - for the life of me - I can never figure out why I would do something so radical. For me - a card-carrying introvert - it was the most un-introvert thing I could have ever done. But did it I did. The experience never really freed me of introvert-ism - but it was a gut-wrenching experience in many ways you are keenly aware of. I never did anything really stupid there. I learned that I never wanted to drink since that feeling of losing it was distasteful to me. It was a mystery why so many wanted that feeling - but for me - I would never embrace it. Then when you brought me home - I stumbled on the jewel that was introduced into my life when I was 8 years old. I was so inexperienced in basic social skills - especially with girls - but upon our reconnection I was introduced to conversation and intellect that I had never encountered before. Since she was married I now had a model on which to base the future relationship I would want with a girl. Fun, stimulating, respectful and so much more. The model of that relationship would be the standard to which I would aspire to find. It would be worth it. Then - since our families were connected through my mom’s years of working at her parents market - our paths started to cross more and more. My analytical perspective discerning that her life was not living up to her wonderful outlook and me being sad that her life would have that emptiness. How could I ever see that we would become more. How could I know that we both had such emptiness in our lives - we both never had that true love given to us though the years - that when we both realized what was happening - a bond had started to form that would propel us beyond even us - to embark on a relationship that would blossom and grow into an extraordinary experience. When illness struck in 2011 - we kept going forward. When it struck with a vengeance in 2015 we came together to face it. I took off from work for three months and devoted every second to the one who was my everything in this life. When we realized that we had been given a miracle that fall - we rejoiced in its reality. Four years later I now reflect on God’s answer to our prayers for healing in 2019. He said her race was over. I was now to face life without her. There’s only one problem with that - I can’t. These past months I have been struggling with you. As flawed as you were with us - you were the life I had. Now that I have to say goodbye to my sweetheart - I also have to say goodbye to part of you as well. I run into you and her all the time. I am continually saddened by the reminders of our life together. The places we went, the things we enjoyed - everything about you flavored with her. You are now quite empty to me. I turn away from the memories of her and I and you when I am reminded of what we shared. Today I realized I have to say goodbye to that part of you that encompassed her and all she was to me. It is excruciatingly difficult to face. I struggle with this and I know in a sense always will. I am going through the motions of you right now. I know God works through you and has brought me to a new group of His believers. Today marks the third week of our new relationship. A seedling that has just been planted. But it is a plant that I did not want. A life that is distasteful to me because the one who was my life is not a part of it. In saying goodbye to her - I know what is ahead. I am more empty and lost than ever for the moment. But I know He is directing this. Apparently these past two weeks are the start of the transition. One I do not want at the depths of my heart - but one that is coming. So life, I have to also let the parts of you that were a part of her go. It is difficult to even write this. But it is the reality that I must face. I don’t believe this will be the only time we talk. This is all some undefinable process that will take as long as it takes. Despite the emptiness of today, I know I will be seeing her on that day - when the last trump sounds. Of that I am sure. Life, you have been difficult so many times, joyful in so many others - quite foreboding and depressing as you currently are. But the parts of you that were part of her are over. I do know that. But the parts of her that are in me - that bond we shared - her personality that I know so well, the examples of her unending love to everyone she was associated with - will come along with me. They may not make you any more tolerable - but they will be with me. And for now - I will embrace whatever comfort that brings.

Written Sunday January 26, 2020 / Day 167 / Afternoon Words seem to be only markers for certain moments in this world of grief that really do not correctly reflect what is behind them. The emotions that ebb and flow remain a mystery to me - a mystery in how to express them. Tears seem to be the universal currency in that respect. The essays on saying goodbye have to be the most extreme moments of my journey so for. Nearly impossible to write - and on the second day since their writing - nearly impossible to read. It is in my heart to continue that effort so I can record the audio of their message. Within this swirling torrent of emotion - I have again sensed a change. It has been a rather profound one. There have not been too many on this journey - yet when they have occurred they have ushered in a new atmosphere and context of the trip. Several of Joann’s things have been absolutely toxic to me - I mean that even touching them took me down on a quick and devastating descent to the worst place I could ever go. Those things now have changed. I know it is not the things that are doing this - but their power over me has changed. Perhaps it really is my sensitivity to what they represent that has changed. I can now touch them. And nothing happens. It is one of those “whoa” moments. I was stopped in my tracks. I can now touch them? - and survive the event? This is big. It is different. And as always who knows what it means. It is interesting that something of this magnitude happens but the overall state I must live in has not really changed. The intensity as I have noticed over these past months has diminished - that is certainly a good direction. The idea then, of “saying goodby” as my grief support group friend mentioned to me so many weeks back has turned into a watershed moment. As I have previously mentioned about how my tears felt when in late October the heavy weight of despair was miraculously lifted from me - the heavy sad tears seems to change to be coming from a different place. Now I would have to say that is true again. I am adamant that sad-for-the-sake-of-sad tears are not permitted in my home any longer. But these tears, the tears of goodbye - seem to be in yet another category. My nature so wants to define them but cannot. So I will just take comfort in that they seem to be coming from a more healing than a hurtful place. And in this week ahead - a week of goodbye - there will be something new coming on horizon. The future that is ahead - the one I can never see coming. Until the tears of change lead me to that future God has is preparing for me.

Written Friday January 24, 2020 / Day 165 / Evening My Dear Dear Joann, This is a day I have not wanted to face. It is so hard to know anything right now. Today as I wrote your letter I was overcome with emotion. It was different than other times so I know there is something special about this moment. I know the facts but I just do not know how to live without you. I just don’t know how. Every time I kissed you I reminded you about how much I love you. When we sat down for our tea and then I would stop and get up and go over to you to kiss you and embrace you - I never wanted to miss an opportunity to let you know. And I never did. I would make you laugh when I would tell you that I was “still crazy about you…” because I am and you knew it. We talked about death, I know. We knew what God had taught us through our years of Bible study and the monthly group He blessed us to host for those eight years - we talked about how little this world has to offer. When you would often mention that you wanted us to die together I would pause a bit - but now in this reality I almost wish that had been the case. Not having you here is too much to bear. But thinking of you being here without me is equally unbearable a thought - so if one of us had to continue on I am glad it is me for your sake. How can I say goodbye? The situation is what it is. We were praying for our “next chapter” - the upcoming retirement and all that we envisioned. It has been beyond difficult to reconcile God’s decision. But I thought I had. I think I have. We had our miracle in 2015 and we were blessed with more time together. How much more could there have been? Sooner of later we would be faced with this situation. I try to embrace what God chose for you. There is a bit of comfort in that you are awaiting the time we will be together we so often read in 1 Thessalonians 4:16 - at that last trump - the dead will be raised. And I told you so often of Colossians 3:3 - we died to this life and our real lives are hidden with Christ in God - this is not even our real life yet. The awfulness that I face each day because of this sinful broken world makes me long for that coming future time. We knew these things - but life was so difficult for both of us. I could tell that everything was changing in mid-July. I saw where we were headed. I just do not know how to do anything without you because we did everything together. We prayed together each night before bed since your miracle in 2015. I thank God for every moment we had. You will always be a part of me. Now He has led me to a new group. I do not know what I am doing but I know He does. I just can’t face a future without you. I tell Him that all of the time. Yet I know that He wants me here. I just have not been able to fathom a life without you in it. I just can’t. But I come back to His decision. He wants you to not suffer. He took you because your race was finished. And my race has to continue. I know that I will go on somehow. I do not know how but I will. I am still sending out the cards on your calendar. I will continue to do that. Some had told me that they thought they would not receive any more cards - but I told them that I will continue to carry on the family business. I am also printing some photos of whoever the card is for and including them - it seems like something you would do. Loving others was so much a part of you - I pray I can express just some of that love in your honor. I am going to try. I cannot bring my self to actually cook anything as of yet. That was so you and so not me. I get along though - going to Darrells most nights for dinner and then filling in on the few nights I am on my own. I really do not care about that - or anything right now. But after I wrote your letter today - and after these past two weeks of intense contention - I could actually touch a few of your things and not be devastated. I spent an hour today just proclaiming to the house that I will not accept plain old sadness in this house any more. God’s love is not a sad thing. You expressed it to everyone. I did everything I could to help you do that in every way. On that first night moving into Newell Avenue when you were so distraught over all that had taken place that past January and I realized that I would not allow you to be alone and suffering - I never left you after that - ever. I never wanted you to ever be suffering alone - like I am now suffering. I may have not done everything right in my life - but that is one thing that I did right. God revealed to me recently that it was His love that propelled me. Here 47 years later I never let up on loving you. He blessed me with the same love - it never left me. I know that was His gift to me. You were the other. And now I have to do the unthinkable. The thing I guess I have been dreading at some background level for these past 165 days - I have to accept where I am. And where I am is without you. I recently realized that we were one in so many ways after all those years - that I do have you with me in so many ways. So I’m not leaving you in one sense. And I will be seeing you again. I tell Christ that I will be there. I even know the first words I am going to tell you when we meet again. Until then I will rest in Christ’s finished work. He has overcome this world and I claim that victory for myself. Even though I am a mess right now - I will recover in some way. For some unknown purpose. As long as He wants me here I will have that assurance. So my sweetheart - how can I even end this letter? It is like everything else right now - a struggle of the highest magnitude. Maybe I’ll write you again someday. But for now - I have to say what I cannot say but must. I’ll be seeing you before I know it. But now I have to go. And I have to let you go. I know you are all right. And God the Father and Jesus have me so I know I will be. Goodbye my sweetie. Goodbye….for now. Love Always, Steve. B.B.

Written Friday January 24, 2020 / Day 165 / Late Morning Dear Stephen (pronounced as Steven), I know we did not get to say goodbye the way I would have wanted. You know we often talked about death and I always said that we should die together. God had other ideas. I was coping with so much, so much I never told you about. I know you knew this but I could not bring myself to upset you in any way. I knew how much you were doing for me and thanked God continually for blessing me so richly with your love. I could never thank Him enough. As I told Donna Hughes that time we ran into them at Wal-Mart, I could not have had a better husband. It was so uncomfortable for me - I know you knew this and if it was up to you you would taken on all of my suffering. I know you would. Those times in the ER, that last time especially, that bed was just so uncomfortable. Maybe it kept me from the focusing on other things. I was just never settled. God gave me the focus that we were going to go home. Back in 2015, as terrible as all of that was - I never thought I would die. Perhaps that is the confidence I had in God - I knew He was with me and Jesus had me - I know the future that I am now awaiting is sure. We often talked about how our situation was so difficult. It was harder and harder for me to do things and you were doing everything else - something had to change one way or another. God decided my race was over. But now you are there without me. I know how difficult this is for you. Beyond difficult. I loved your affection towards me and from the very beginning you were there for me and never left me. I know that you are struggling without me there. I know how much it is hurting you. I do. I also know that you are in God’s hands. He is leading you as difficult as it is each day. You will have to go on without me for a while. But God showed us His plans for us through His Holy Days, and all that we studied together those 24 years on our own. The Bible Studies we held were my joy and you knew that. Like everything else, you always lifted me up and helped me in every way you could. I just love you so much. And now God has led you to a new group. They are His people and I know He is bringing them to you so you all can grow together. He has planted you there and you know that it was really His choice. I went with you as far as I could go. And He made it clear that He was planting you there. I know and you do as well. You have to let some of me go now. I know you don’t want to - but you know you must. The bond we shared might be broken in the physical sense but I am a part of you and always will be. You hear me in so many things. We were one - that’s how I am now with you. We were so different in our personalities but in our love we were the same. Every kiss was always new - and you showered me with so many! Now we know - what God taught us in 1 Thessalonians 4:16 - that day will come when we will enter the next part of God’s plan - together. I will see you then. Live for Christ - he has me and we both know He has you. Live for Him now - I know you will… Love Always, Your Joann. XOXO

Written Monday January 20, 2020 / Day 161 / Late Morning As the second week of the symbolic new life that has started unfolds - the usual mix of conflicting emotions has a new wrinkle. Ever since that January 12th moment where I was unmistakably made aware of the significance of the day (Read “Newness” - Essay 19 in Volume 5) - amidst the boiling emotions of my daily life there seems to be a mildly perceptible change in the landscape. It is direction. The direction of my life has changed. Now the change is tiny - smaller than small in one sense. But I have detected a change in the constant emotional upheavals of that first week since January 12th.. There were many and they were quite constant. Part of the emotional fabric changing? Possibly. But something is changing. This week after an unusually contentious Saturday, Sunday was greeted with the new reality - part 2. Much more uplifting and encouraging. Still empty though - but different. In the clinical - unemotional view - living on past grief means embracing the future and reconciling that the loss is really not a part of the future. It can’t be - what was lost is - lost. There is nothing to take there. As I know - my biggest recurring aspect of life is that I cannot comprehend how to live any semblance of a life without my dear sweetie as a part of that future. It is a non-negotiable element of my current existence. I just will not accept that reality. Well, reality has another opinion. It is, after all, reality. And it has a convincing argument to make - you cannot fight me. You just can’t. Reality says, I am what I am. And sorry about this, but your loss is no longer a part of me. Deal with it. Ouch. That reality - it is so real. And undesirable. And unwanted. But it certainly is consistent. It has no choice. And in my mind neither do I. Greeting card companies and concerned friends and acquaintances will tell you that you at least have your memories. Sure, right, it sounds like something. Often to me, they just seem like empty calories. But hey, they are calories at least. I have been a frequent visitor to the past. In writing the family history I must travel there quite regularly. It is a peaceful trip…until I have to come back. Today a new revelation takes me beyond memories. It has always been there but not quite identified in this way. I was on the telephone with a friend yesterday and mentioned that I hear my wife in certain situations. Not in a message from “beyond”. If you have read any of the past essays - you know I do not believe in that possibility. One of the many understandings of “death” that we really do not understand. But that is a different topic. No it is not her communicating with me. It is actually something more profound as I have come to understand. She actually became part of me. We always bantered a bit when we were together. That was the dynamics between us - our personalities were not the same - but the bond we had and the love it represented was beyond any transitory human issues that would surface. We knew each other at a deep level. We were fused together - bonded and blended. As I struggle with the concept of “leaving” something behind, reality comes along and gives me my daily slap in the face. Hello? Reality says…she’s not here - okay? Don’t you get it? Hello? To which I say, “Get lost.” Today’s revelation though adds a pretty significant wrinkle to the story. Yes, she is no longer here. I know why and I have always accepted the fact it was God’s decision. We both did know that and had even talked about it often in the weeks prior to the new reality. But what is here is the part of me that contains a part of her. These are not memories, per se. These are patterns of thought - her essence that had become over time, part of mine. And it is a part of me. This goes beyond memories. This is actually how she thought. Now my personality is mine. Hers was hers. But over those 47 years we blended. We did become one in a sense. That element of her in me is what I have. A great gift. One I had with me all the time. The part of her that I love will always be a part of me in this life. Next time reality comes by, we’ll have to have a talk. So I can clue it in on the greatest gift I now possess. The gift of the best of her that is a part of me - the part that will go with me - wherever I go. Especially into this new life that is beginning to unfold in front of me.