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Written Monday March 9, 2020 / Day 210 / Late Evening When combatants finally agree to stop fighting - it is a glorious moment. The war is now over. Hostilities now cease. The prospects of a new life possible for both sides of the conflict. My arch enemy - the future and I have been fighting a titanic battle. One in which I was in full engagement mode. Anything to do with the future being assigned a target from which my armaments would be launched to totally destroy all that it represented. My love for my dear wife being the power that sustained such a battle. The premise that the future would destroy any and all remnants of my past life - a battle cry of the highest proportions. A call to arms to obliterate the threat to the memory of the Iife I had led. The life I considered sanctified, the life I exalted - the one I loved beyond measure because my sweetie was at its core. Whatever it would take to preserve that which was valued - the catalyst for launching whatever it would take to immobilize that threat. Today something astounding happened. A change to something that has been part of my every waking moment of this journey. Something that I could never see coming. Until now. I know it is the result of the amazing week I just experienced (Volume 7 - Essay #11 “One Week”) - the week that has fundamentally changed my journey. The week that has seen amazing, unexpected and unprecedented changes to my very existence. Today there was a cease-fire. An end declared to the hostilities. It is a stunning moment. One which I could never see coming. It came because the forces of darkness were thwarted. There was a battle that raged on in the emptiness. And God’s love conquered the enemy. As I knew it always would but never knew exactly how it would take place. At the cease-fire a declaration was made. One I could never even imagine just two weeks ago. The declaration? An invitation for the future. An invitation for the future to come into my life. To be welcomed. Not thwarted. And not just to enter for the sake of entering. No, an invitation to come in. To take over. To actually step into its rightful place. To take this life to where it needs to go. To where God knows it is to go. I know why I could never see it. The hostilities - as they always do - whatever they are - blind the combatants. They focus only on the conflict - the contention. Now, with hostilities over - there is a new opportunity. An opportunity for new life. The invitation to the future now complete. Come. Take over. Lead me to where I should go. To go where you always knew I would go - but could not take me there - until I stopped fighting you. I have stopped fighting you. Who knows where we will go? God always knew. Now we can go there. Let the journey continue - let peace lead the way. Now that the war is over.

Written Sunday March 8, 2020 / Day 209 / Afternoon We all know that life can change in a moment - that is what brought us to the state of grief. That moment when everything changed forever. Today I am reflecting on the most astounding week I have had during this journey. Although the calendar says only seven days have elapsed - emotionally it has been a trip that has seemingly gone on for months. It all started on the last Sunday of February (February 23rd) when my prayer for a conversation was my cry to God. It was something that I always have prayed about during this journey - but on that day, the prayer was particularly intense. Sunday March 1st then marked the amazing answer to that prayer (Volume 7 - Essay #9 “The Answer”). Meeting someone who was willing to enter my world, spend time with me and listen and share was beyond incredible to me. Lost on the desert island of emptiness - having survived on emotional relationship scraps - the supply ship had finally arrived. It was a feast of conversation. A feast dreamt about that was finally fulfilled. This sent the forces of grief into a tailspin. Someone was going to breech the emptiness and enter this surreal world that no other had ventured into. Sleep became an issue - these forces of change starting to manifest themselves before the change actually occurred. It was Wednesday that we met for dinner at 5 o’clock. The conversation was amazing - first that I was even having one - second that here was someone who wanted to share. We were interrupted only by the closing of the restaurant at 9 pm. Apparently we had no problem talking. I had mentioned the local botanical gardens for a further conversation - a great place to go for that purpose. We planned for lunch at noon on Saturday. Comprehending what had just occurred was quite an effort on my part. I had conversations in the past. They were rather superficial from those who did not dare enter my world completely. This conversation was different. Something was not typical. I would later realize that God - who orchestrated our meeting the previous Sunday, was sending His love to me through His emissary. Someone who cared enough to reach out to a stranger and meet that stranger where they were living. Sleep continued to be a problem. The forces of darkness contending with this new ray of light entering their domain. And for me? Anticipating another session of this wonderful new experience - too much to manage or contain. My analytical nature straining to keep this new taste of reality in the box it needed to be in - the one I had asked for. Saturday came with lunch and more light. More opportunity to share - perhaps to some casual observer just a normal encounter - yet to the grief-stricken survivor - more of God’s love being expressed - flowing like water over a parched spirit needing to be healed. Conversation only interrupted once we realized we had to depart before the facility would be closing in less that an hour. My unpretentious spirit - flowing from the depths of the emptiness that it had formerly lived in to a new place where there was a taste of what real conversation, respect and sharing could be like. My head spinning as I left the gardens. The forces of darkness now on notice that a change had occurred. One that they would never recover from. God’s love is like that. I asked to sit with her at the next weeks services. Attracted perhaps by this new connection and all that it was doing at the core of my being. A request that I later doubted was too much to ask of a connection that was not even a week old. In my spirit, however, where there is no time - having lived what seemed like months - it was and effort before I could get a grip on where the whirlwind of emotion was trying to take me. We talked to clarify what was going on. We defined what was and what was not. My efforts to contain the power unleashed in our time together back into the context of my original request. We parted that afternoon with the perspective I had originally prayed for - someone to have a conversation with. I was now a different person. No one would be able to tell on the surface - but I knew. Something had changed. I had a conversation I never thought possible. And found a wonderfully open, caring and compassionate person God sent to deliver it. The vacuum of emptiness at last had met its match. Its power now challenged - and forever changed. Changed to allow that future I have been dreading for so long - to now take its seat at the table of my life. Because of a beautiful person sent by God to bring the gift of conversation, love and respect. Taking my journey to a new place that the future I formerly resisted could now begin to grow. All from one prayer. All in one week.

Written Tuesday, February 25, 2020 / Day 197 / Morning It is raining this morning. I have not been a person that is overly affected by the weather as far as my mood is concerned. however, that was before I entered the state of grief 197 days ago. Now things are different in that way. Today is a particularly contentious morning regarding missing my dear sweetie and all she is to me. Missing her presence is a constant. It is disarming that I am now in silence in that way. We talked all the time - talked about everything. These were not superficial conversations about innocuous things - they were conversations that were tied to our shared past - things we did together - observations on our present issues and first and foremost - God’s involvement in our lives, His plan and how to navigate this broken world. I, of course, can remember our conversations - obviously not in detail - but I remember them for the richness they added to our lives together. I miss looking into her eyes - and telling her I love her. That I was still crazy about her - and she would look back at me and comment, “crazy?” And we would both laugh about it. I miss embracing her and comforting her. When she would feel lonely and abandoned (as we all do at times) - I would tell her God sent me to give her all the love that she was missing. I miss building her up in every way. From the first time I realized I could not leave her (“Alone” - Volume 2 - Essay #6) to her last moments with me (“The Last Hours” - Volume 1 - Essay #8) - I reflect on her life - a life I am so grateful and blessed to have been a part of - to have helped her in every way achieve whatever it was that she wanted to do. I miss that. When she would call me with the request that, “I need a hug!”…to praying with her every night before bed - all those things are overtaking me at the moment. Those things that I am missing. And yet - I know that I have a new life - as distasteful as it is at the moment. A life I can only glance over and give a quick nod to - because in embracing that new life - I have to let go of the remnants of the life I had. Something I know I have to do at some point - but cannot fathom that idea right now. The activities that we shared, the shopping, dining, visiting moments that were our day-to-day. Now unapproachable to me in every way without her as a part of them. As is my life right now - this is a strange place to be. Yet I know I will be given what I need when I need it. When it is time to go down a new path - I will know it. And I know I will be given what I need to take that path. Sorting all of this out is a continual effort that has no end. She will always be a part of me. Those things that I miss so much - I pray will be the source of new strength instead of continual sadness. I struggle with this knowing that I can really do nothing about it. But the One who has me - is capable of that and so much more. I am just capable of missing her. And I do. And I will. Until that day when I will see her again (1 Thessalonians 4:16) and continue on with what is next. Until then - I will miss her every day - and be strengthened by what we had even though it is not in front of me - it is still a part of me. And always will be. Until God supplies what I need. What has been lost - for now. Until He supplies what I am missing.

This is Volume 8 of the Essays on Grief. Looking back from today, I see a breathtaking vista of suffering, sadness and emptiness. Yet, as Volume 7 ended, I have been introduced to the most remarkable aspect of this journey. I have been granted an extraordinary privilege. I have been granted my heartfelt prayer for conversation. And what a glorious transition to an unexpected level of life it has been. As I write this - trying to put any of it in perspective is just not possible. If I could, and in my heart of hearts, want so desperately to do - summarize the amazing days I have had since God unmistakably changed this state of grief forever just 22 days ago. In trying to absorb the un-absorable I have been led to a realization of a calm I have not had in my life for years. Many, many years. Seemingly now perched on the highest peak of this journey, after being in abject awe of surpassing each preceding peak I had been led to reach - I marvel at God’s hand in my current state. Being on a path of discovery - both in re-discovering my own life as I struggle to identify just what I as a person will become - as well as the incredible openness and sharing I am experiencing from the conversation I am being blessed to drink in. I had a thought yesterday (March 21st) which I knew was not mine. I always know when it is not a thought of my origin because the very existence of the thought was beyond me. It just popped in to my head. Within its simplicity a scope that transcends mere human thinking. The thought? “You have something to learn from your conversations.” Excuse me? What? Apparently now I will fully realize that I am being taken to this new life I have finally embraced. And as the future comes to take me there - I have been given a new precious thing. Someone to help me. In that help is a sharing of the deepest aspects of grief. This is a powerful new dimension of this next part of the journey. I am ready to take it. Let’s find out what I have to learn.

Written Tuesday, March 31, 2020 / Day 232 / Afternoon These words cannot portray the depths of what you are about to read. They cannot convey the stunning changes to my life. Changes that I had longed for. Changes that were delivered. Changes that I may perhaps never really be able to absorb. For the lessons contained in March, 2020 for me are beyond my comprehension. That they have occurred at all is like a dream. I have felt as if I have observed a UFO and no one really understands what has happened to me. Yet the changes are real. And they are all from God. Lesson #1: God answers prayers. Why does this surprise me? I know it is true. I have had it happen before in my life. But not on this scale. Not in this way. Not with this impact. Yet it happened. God heard me. He sent an answer. Learning about the answer was another privilege He gave me. Being able to see the details, the connections, what everyone was thinking as they stepped through the moments - these revelations were absolutely stunning to me. I have been, and will continue to be humbled at the very experience of them. Lesson #2: God can change the worst situation into the best situation. God took the incomprehensible world of grief I was in, the vacuum of a life I had to endure while the world and everything I knew continued on in blissful ignorance as to what was really going on in my every moment in grief - He took that world and disabled it. He sent someone who took a step to help a stranger and in taking that step brought God’s spirit into the darkest place imaginable and unleashed that spirit to forever disarm the forces of darkness that were my world. I marvel at the scope of what has happened. In one moment my dark world became light. Hope arrived. Love appeared. And I will never be the same. Lesson #3: God can connect people in unique ways. I marvel that I have been blessed with my prayer of conversation with someone who I seem to know as if I had a history with them. Open, caring, compassionate along with wit and humor that has a maturity that belies its elapsed time. Instant maturity. Comfort and compassion that disarms the suffering of the past and replaces it with peace and calm. This is God’s doing - only He can adjust us in these ways. Why do I marvel? Because it is God’s doing. There’s no way for me to not marvel at that. Lesson #4: God’s timing is always perfect. Underneath my past of suffering, I always knew a time of change would be coming. In this situation as in any trial, there are not any physical things you can do to change the moments. Sure, there are physical things that people often use but those things are mere masks that cover the true pain. The way I endured was not based on anything I ever did. I held on to the promises of God. I held on to Christ’s finished work. I just held on in the midst of the tears. Knowing that my salvation from grief would come. And it did. In His time. That time was March, 2020. Lesson #5: God has a new life for me. Perhaps the most incomprehensible reality for me is that God has a new life for me to live. This is the most difficult lesson I have had to learn. I was happy with the life I had. I was dedicated to it and the one who was at the center of every conceivable part of what it represented. Any life without her - a non-negotiable issue that I would refuse to address. But in March, 2020, God through his emissary has opened my mind and ultimately my heart - and when that heart is able to function again, open it to the possibility that I will somehow have a new life of my own. A life where I do something. For now, I have no idea who I am. I have always been a “we’ not a “me”. The course ahead then will be interesting, formidable and most likely challenging. Yet, in embracing the future - I have now agreed to what He always knew and has planned for. Some new destination for me. Lesson #6: I have things to learn. We are always learning. Now in this transitory place of preparation, I will be taught what I will need to know. My slate of life wiped clean from the devastation that has taken place. It is a fresh instance which God will lead me to fill with His will for me. Coming from my grief-induced disdain for this world - a world that dropped me off by the side of the road before it sped off with my former life to take it to the oblivion in which it disappeared - I have no opinion about most everything. Apparently just what the builder needs to build something new. He is good at that. He is a God of new things. Looks like I will be one of them. The words on this page cannot touch your heart as they touch mine. I wish they could. These experiences are perhaps only for me. But one thing I do know, I will not be shy about sharing them. They happened. I lived them. I want others to know. To see God in their lives. To know they can depend upon Him - just as I have. And as I head off to the future - always will.

Written Friday, April 3, 2020 / Day 235 / Evening There is an interesting contrast involved with a liberation. The very concept elicits a feeling of euphoria, exuberance and joy. Liberation is a release from bondage, from captivity - it is a complete change of life. While liberation is all of that and more, the transition from the prior state of bondage, from the restrictive state of being held captive can be quite traumatic. In captivity of any kind, physical or emotional, there is a continual pressure and weight of oppression. The oppression of ourselves, our life - and everything that defines us creates a crushing atmosphere that we can hardly endure. In grief, that atmosphere is especially painful. Not only is it painful, it is also relentless. Relentless because of the loss we have suffered - and that loss is complete. It is final - and as a result, the life we once led has come to a screeching and unresolvable halt. Forever. The pain this elicits is constant. It is oppressive. And it is unending. And that is on a good day. Because actually, there are no good days in grief, only days where that day is not as awful as the previous day. Where the contention subsides for the moment bringing a temporary respite from what we are enduring. So when God, in His perfect timing, began to grant to me the most profound change to my grief experience that I could ever imagined (Volume 7 - Essay #9 “The Answer”), it unleashed a series of events that disabled the darkness that has been a part of my every waking moment for all the days since my life had ended. Unleashed were emotions on a scale that I could not manage - could not control - since the power that was unleashed was so vast. I was standing, figuratively, in the midst of a series of miraculous events that would forever change me. It was the end of the captivity. The end of bondage. It was exhilarating It was mind-boggling. And it was exhausting, tiring and physically demanding. A mighty transition was taking place. One I could only grasp from the physical and emotional roller coaster of events that were taking place. This was not a total elimination of my grief. No, that would never be because the loss would always be a part of this life. But now, the episodes - as they would still come - had lost their vast power. Their all-encompassing and overwhelming power. Those forces had been disabled. Disabled by God’s love that He sent into the darkness. The love that transformed that darkness into the hope that I had always known was going to come. In drinking in this new reality though, there was a trauma involved. The transition was - and remains - an all-encompassing landscape of emotions. Except now, the emotions are tempered by love. Not by pain and sadness. Yes, there still is that - I still cry for the moments and will have difficult challenges to face. But in this new place - those challenges will not leave me devastated. Not crushed. Not depressed. I have that help I always knew I would have. And now that it is here - the very idea of being liberated from the worst of what grief can generate - creates a joy that brings a new kind of tear. Tears that help me see there is a way forward. When those who are liberated are freed, they have no idea of the details of the life is ahead of them. How could they? All of those vistas were crushed by their captivity. No, the act of liberation, the release of the tyranny of the life they have led - is a constant source of celebration and joy. The old ways are over. Their power forever defeated. Having that rest - that peace is breathtaking. The idea of stability instead of conflict and contention is euphoric. It is perhaps, without definition. Just like the undefinable moments in the worst place imaginable, now the idea of being in an oppression-free state is quite humbling. Quite settling. Words cannot do justice to what life will now mean. I have before me just such a moment. It is often just too much to get my head around. But I know I will. God’s love is like that. It heals. It builds. It grows. Now I may still cry each day. But those tears are more than just tears. They are a thank you for the wonder of a new life. A free life. A liberated life. Thank you.

Written Thursday, April 9, 2020 / Day 241 / Morning A perplexing thought that has been in the background of this journey would surface quite regularly. It had to do with the most fundamental aspects of my life - one I had never really thought of in my pre-grief life. A situation would present itself and the situation would require a decision. Usually innocuous things but situations requiring decisions nevertheless. The thought that would pop in my head each time would be, “And I am doing this….for me?”. The net result would be a realization that I was making a decision for me alone. This was foreign territory for me because I never really made serious decisions alone. I had never really thought of the mechanics of this. My wife and I were together on most of the fundamental aspects of our lives from the very beginnings of our relationship. The adventure was how our unique and totally differing personalities and outlooks on life would meet each other and often clash. Not in an argumentative or negative way but in a way that forced us to see how we approached life. Not that there were not sparks as we would grapple with an unfamiliar approach (to us) to a situation or problem - but over time we came to embrace each others ways even though initially we were thrown off by the differences. Having had this unity in the background of our lives meant that we always decided with each other in mind. It was just what we did. Now - in this world of aloneness (not a word I’m sure) I am faced with an ongoing dilemma. The dilemma of having to decide for myself various courses of action. Administratively, this is no problem since those decisions are quite routine. Where it keeps getting to me is in those situations where the decision is discretionary. Where the decision is a preference. I don’t know why this is such an issue - other than realizing one significant point. I really do not care about the decision. Ambivalence seems to be the theme here. In unpacking this reality I have been constantly reminded that I am in charge. As the possibility of the new life ahead of me looms, I am further disarmed by the simple fact that I really do not want to be in charge. But I am. This then, is the essence of the dilemma - defining what in the world I am as a “me” - instead of a “we”. “We” was quite comfortable. It was the foundation of my life for 47 years - so that has a tendency to grow on a person. Especially if they love the other person with all of their heart and are totally committed to them. Now, after crashing through the barrier of grief into this new generally peaceful time - this defining of “me” is a constant background “to do” item. “So what are you?” questions my subconscious. To which I say, “I have not a clue right now, I’ll get back to you on that one.”. Because there is not a simple answer as of yet. As reflecting on my salvation from living with the worst of what grief offers reminds me, I always knew that the situation would change. That I would be freed from the worst place (mentally) in which a person could be trapped. So I know this dilemma will also be resolved. How, I do not know. Because I am in a sort of a logic loop again. I have no real desire for almost everything. I am capable of many things I am sure - but to choose one, make a decision on a direction, cast my lot on a path forward? Well, that is just not possible at the moment. I’m ready for a new life - but then life asks me, “So where would you like to go?”. To which I say, “Who knows?”. The answer to this is that God knows. He has made it quite clear that He can change the direction of things from all that has taken place this past March. So the answer to this dilemma is clear. I will know in His time - not mine. And that is fine. Fine because when He does reveal what is ahead, I’ll know it. So “me” will have to wait. That will be fine. Stay tuned for Part 2 and we’ll find out where I will be going.

Written Tuesday, April 14, 2020 / Day 246 / Evening When God delivers a message there can be no mistake about it. On day 245 He delivered several unmistakable messages. It actually began the previous evening - Sunday - day 244. I was flipping through the television channels, I’m not sure why I was even doing that since I rarely watch anything other than weather and occasionally a few selected shows - none of which I watched in my pre-grief life. I happened on a movie channel that was playing the movie "A Beautiful Mind”. I played a few minutes of it as it was in progress. During that time, the music caught my attention. I was familiar with the music and I heard enough for the music to intrigue me. After turning off the television, I set out to find the soundtrack. I found a web post of an entire hour of the original music which I played. What intrigued me about the music was its scope. It’s majesty. The tone is neither sad, nor happy. The music has a serious quality to it - quite orchestral and sweeping in its presentation. There is an element of wonder and awe to certain parts of it that captivated me. I love motion picture soundtracks that have those qualities in general. As I listened to each section and was swept away by the scope, intensity and wonder of it all - an interesting thing happened. I had an emotional reaction to what I was hearing. Tears appeared. Along with the tears were thoughts and images of the events of the past March. All of what took place both actually as well as the intense emotional roller coaster that was my life for that period of time. This was unexpected, upsetting at one level - yet compelling in another. I continued to listen to the entire hour. I was lost in the moments of the music and how they were triggering emotions from every aspect of this recent part of the journey. I went to bed that evening with a new and interesting twist I never could have anticipated. Monday - Early Morning I woke up with rain pounding the window of the bedroom - a storm raging outside. It was around 6:00 am. I got up and tuned in to the weather forecasters. They warned everyone of unusually strong and intense storms and wind for most of the morning. Then throughout the afternoon the high winds would subside, the sun would come out and the day would end calm. Metaphor received. That’s sure a picture of my recent life. Monday Morning - Part 1 I played the hour of the soundtrack once again as I exercised for the day. The same thing happened. I was swept away by what I was hearing. My life of grief, the liberation from it and my wonderful gift of conversation all playing together as the music captivated my every moment. What was happening here? I did not know. But one thing I did realize was quite stunning. In the background, I was feeling peace throughout all of this episode. Upon playing the soundtrack yet again, the same confluence of emotions, thoughts and memories were invoked. It was another remarkable moment. And then it struck me. This made me feel settled. It was a totally new and unexpected event. Monday Morning - Part 2 Another objective of my Monday was to try and reorganize the dining room I have been using as a “war room” throughout this journey. It was time to organize and really clean it up a bit. I wanted to arrange all that was in the room so I could get on with the family history and other related tasks. I arranged quite a few things and then ran into Joanns materials from the funeral. The paperwork, cards and all the remnants from that day. I found two storage boxes and boxed up everything along with the paperwork and removed it from the room - placing it on the top of a bookcase in our office area in the back of the house. Touching all the material at this time made me think - why today? What was that about? Something unsettled became somewhat settled was the thought that struck me. Monday Morning - Part 3 It was laundry day. A load of clothes, then it was time to change the sheets and pillow cases. Every other time, I changed the pillow case liners. This was their time to be changed. The laundry work proceeded throughout the day. I picked out the new sheets and made up the bed without the pillowcases and their liners. Monday Afternoon I got behind and was not able to complete drying that load of items for the bed before leaving for my son’s home. Something to do when I returned in the early evening. I then left for my son’s home. Monday Late Afternoon While at my Son’s, I purchased the online version of the soundtrack. I was listening to it so much I though I might as well have the official version. On my way home that evening I played several selections. They were quite moving but as I was driving I did not let the emotion take over as it was trying to do. Monday Early Evening Playing the new soundtrack continued to elicit the emotional environment I had been experiencing quite profoundly. It continued to be a mixture of wonder and deep emotion during the music. This experience was a new element that I marveled at. A continuation of what had begun the previous evening. Monday Late Evening - Part 1 It was now time to wind down and get to bed. There were those pesky pillows to get together so I sorted out the other parts of the load and proceeded to put the pillows together. Then I noticed something odd: I had an extra pillow case liner. And then the thought hit - I washed Joann’s pillow case liner. Not the worst thing in the world - except that was something I was not going to do. I don’t know for how long - I just wanted to leave it and just change the pillow case. I sat on the edge of the bed and cried. I’m not sure what for. It was like a mini-loss of something. I got myself together and said to just get going. I finished up the bed. Monday Late Evening - Part 2 Then the next totally unexpected, stunning and overwhelming thing happened. In the downloaded album I purchased was an extra song. It was the theme song for the movie. The song had not been a part of the soundtrack file I had been listening to. At this point the song played. It was the first time I had heard it in about 20 years since we had seen the movie originally. The song was gripping, touching and disarming. A transcript of my life in grief coupled with the freedom and comfort God delivered to me in March. I was totally in shock. To fully understand, here are the words to the song. “All Love Can Be” Words by Will Jenkins, Music by James Horner I will watch you in the darkness Show you love will see you through When the bad dreams wake you crying I'll show you all love can do All love can do I will watch through the night Hold you in my arms Give you dreams where none will be I will watch through the dark Till the morning comes For the light will take you Through the night to see our light Showing us all love can be I will guard you with my bright wings Stay till your heart learns to see All love can be Although obviously written for the movie theme, the words here have captured my time in the state of grief as well as my liberation. I was in the darkness, every day, every hour, every minute. There were times I would wake up crying. Many many countless times, at the worst moments I would pray that God would hold me so I could get through those awful emotional, empty periods. He gave me the faith to dream of a time when the situation would change. Then the “morning” came for me in March, 2020. That glorious time in which my world changed forever. (Volume 8 - Essay #3“ Lessons of March, 2020”). He answered my prayer for conversation bringing me the one who would help me find out all that love can be in my new life. You can see how this song struck me to the core of my being. On this 245th day of the journey - the first day of the ninth month - I received God’s unmistakable message. It is a message of growth - small yet significant changes from filing funeral records to washing a pillow case liner - two signs of a change of heart. Storms had raged, but now the sun was out - the storm has passed. Peace and calm now reign. And I have been given the gift of a guide to help me as God heals my broken heart and uses His emissary to help me learn what love will be. It is a profound statement that we are on our way to something that is beyond me. So on this first day of the ninth month I begin yet another journey. The message is clear. And today was the first step towards my incredible future He has ordained for me to live.

Written Thursday, April 16, 2020 / Day 248 / Morning My last day in the state of grief was what you could call “normal” for my journey. It was Saturday, February 29, 2020. Awakening to the usual question I would raise, “So where are we today?”, I proceeded to get ready to meet a dear friend - a fellow grief-sufferer for lunch. Those days - when I would be meeting someone for lunch - would focus me a bit more. On those days I had an obligation. Obligations were the engine that drove my life. Without them, the underlying feeling was, “Why bother?”. But on this day, there was a bit more than the usual inertness. I had my quick bowl of cereal and vitamins and headed off to meet my friend. We relate quite well. My friend lost his dear wife (a close person friend of ours) a year and nine month previously after an intense episode with cancer. He has a loving family around him that has helped him physically. We share what they cannot provide. Leaving the restaurant I ran a few errands and returned home. Activities always masked the dark underpinnings of my life. They were a welcome relief from the daily reality of dealing with everything. Prayers are always a part of my days. They help me to just take in the moment for all the good that is in them - despite what the harsh reality of what grief is providing in the background of those days. As humans, we do get used to things - even that sadness and relentlessness of what grief has to offer. My intense prayer of the previous Sunday - beseeching God for a conversation in this lonely and empty place echoing in my mind. On a day like this one - all of that somewhat tempered by the activities of the day - I reflected on the previous two days. On each day I had met others for lunch. So in my world - it was almost like a trip to Disneyland. All those people - those interactions, being able to share and talk - all comforting. As the last afternoon approached, I headed over to my son’s home for dinner. We often play a board game together - they like a game called “Ticket to Ride” which is an interesting strategy game. I’m surprised I do all right with it in my current state. Returning home that evening - it was just like all the others in general. Driving home to my empty home - to address the final moments of the day. Those final moments where I go through the steps I do every day. Being a Saturday evening, getting my clothes together for my new church family on Sunday. Getting what I will need ready since, unlike any other day, even my lunch days, I have to get up in somewhat of a “normal” pre-grief model - early and focused. In that way, these new Sundays bring back a bit of what was. They have been the most positive day of my week. This next one would be my eighth week of attending. As Saturday was ending, as each day did, with me contemplating all that I was experiencing, my prayer would always be for what was going to happen next. I would look back to realize I was getting ready to visit my new Church family for the eighth time. I would reflect on how positive the experience has been. Different and awkward at times - but never being really uncomfortable. There was a settled feeling there - people I felt like I knew but had not really had the time with them to develop a deeper relationship. Reflecting on how I shared my essays with one of the elders and ministers so they could get to know me and my situation better as I was getting to know them. Reflecting on how I had been attending an extra Thursday night Bible Study for several weeks - getting to know that group a bit better. It was something that was adding to my life. It was disarming - in some small way - comforting despite the daily difficulties with the grief journey I was on. All of this with the continual emptiness of the life I was enduring each day. Little did I know - this would be my last day of the intense, overpowering grief that was a part of the journey. The last day I would be in this totally awful place - alone physically - longing for a time when I would have some real relief. To be freed from this unrelentingly intense world that was underneath my every day. My every moment. All of that was about to change. To change in a way I could never have anticipated. In a way I could have never foreseen. Knowing continually that God would be delivering me in His time. Every moment reminding me that the moment I was in was not the moment I longed for. Until tomorrow. That’s how faith is - the hope in a heart that is not yet visible. I knew that a day would come when I would see that change. Who knew is was going to be the next day. Read Volume 7 - Essay #9 “The Answer” - the story of the day my faith became a reality. The lesson of faith God taught me as only He can.

Written February 16 to March 16, 2020 Directory from the printed version. There is a narrated version of this volume - click the link to visit that page - Volume 7 - Narrated Go to the Essays. 1. Window Dressing 2. Timeless 3. First Love 4. Connections 5. Gridlock 6. Missing 7. The Music 8. Forget-Me-Not 9. The Answer 10. Rescue Mission 11. One Week 12. Cease Fire 13. Packing 14. Aftermath 15. Reunion 16. Defining Moment 17. Caring 18. Reflections #7 Epilog