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Written October 13 to November 11, 2019 Directory from the printed version. Go to the Essays. Introduction 1. The Experiment 2. Mixed Feelings 3. Realizations 4. Larger than Life 5. Re-entry 6. Breathless 7. Besides Myself 8. Giving Life 9. Dawn 10. Lights Out 11. Declarations 12. Bullies 13. Expressions 14. Out of Bounds 15. Coming Home - Revisited 16. Paper Cuts 17. Calling 18. Conversations 19. Meaning 20. The Decision 21. Reflections #3 Epilog

Written September 16 to October 12, 2019 Directory from the printed version. Go to the Essays. Introduction 1. Feelings 2. Equilibrium 3. Harsh Reality 4. Tears 5. 40 6. Something Different 7. Inventory of Death 8. Uneasy Peace 9. Self-Inflicted 10. Trapped in the Past 11. What Could Have Been 12. Accident Scene 13. The Banquet 14. The Best of You 15. The Fog 16. How are You? 17. Alone 18. Identity 19. Unsettled 20. The Moment 21. Monuments 22. Reflections #2 Epilog

Written December 13 to January 12, 2020 Directory from the printed version. Go to the Essays. 1. Leftovers 2. Shredded 3. Sleeping 4. Nowhere to Be 5. Sadness Rebuked 6. Unfinished Business 7. Let Me Count the Ways 8. Isolation Chamber 9. As a Child 10. Impasse 11. Belief 12. The Worst of Times 13. Parting is such… 14. In the Valley 15. Going Nowhere 16. Empty Calories 17. Party of One 18. Now 19. Newness 20. Reflection #5 Epilog

Written August 23 to September 12, 2019 The directory from the printed version. Go to the essays. Introduction 1. The Second Week 2. Comfort 3. Dealing with Regrets 4. Frozen in Time 5. Understanding Grief 6. Living with Emptiness 7. Cycles 8. The Last Hours 9. Coming Home 10. Heartfelt 11. Small Gifts 12. Anger 13. The End of Dreams 14. Memories 15. Out of this World 16. The Second Wave 17. Thoughts and Prayers 18. A Love Story 19. Contending 20. Artifacts 21. The Perfect Storm 22. When Grief Takes a Holiday 23. On the Beach 24. Me, Myself and I 25. Out of Body Experience 26. Reflections Epilog

The power of these writings continues to be amazing to me. As each volume would be ending I was struck at how powerful the endings seemed to be. Perhaps that is only just my perception. The emotions I face are not easily sharable and for that in one sense I am grateful. I would not want anyone to experience what I am faced with - it is only an appreciation for the depth of them that I would hope would be communicated. I have ended the volumes with the thought that as that section was completed - it might be some apex. Some level of conclusion. Perhaps it is. But when the next volume unfolds and new more powerful (to me) essays are written - I just stand in abject awe over what is happening here. I really do not have a clue. Other than powerful forces are at work. Powerful forces of darkness. And powerful forces of strength. The strength - for the moment - is not winning by any means - but it has shown up for work at times. A glimpse perhaps of some future state. I can only hope. And as somewhat of a preview - this morning as I was gathering up Volume 5 - I had to write the first essay of Volume 6. Totally unexpected at this point. But supremely, incredibly more powerful than any essay I have previously have written. I do not have any idea of what is going on. Other than it is going on. And you traveling with me is an extraordinary blessing. Thank you for caring.

Written Friday, February 21, 2020 / Day 193 / Morning Looking back at our lives growing up as children - now through the eyes of an adult - it is amazing what we did not know about what we were living through. How could we? Our family, our environment was just what it was. No one was busy assigning labels to just about everything in existence to make us aware of what was happening around us - as seems to be the case today. Our lives back then were just what we were living. Sure there were the issues of the day - but in the larger view - we did not know a lot of the background that was taking place. Growing up as an only-child teenager in the 1960’s - I was a “latchkey” child - a term created in the early 1940’s assigned to children who returned to an empty home each day after school because their parents were working. Those children wore a key around their neck. In my day we did not even lock our homes as amazing as that may sound - so there was not even a key involved. I remember a period of time when I would be home and one of the things I did was to bake cakes. These were the simple box mixes of the day - add a few eggs, water or milk and bake it according to the label. But not just wanting to bake the cake - I wanted the cake to mean something. I had an almanac that had daily listings for occasions each day stood for. On the day I would bake the cake - I would look up the day - find out what occasion it represented and dedicate the cake to that day. These were off the wall occasions, “National Hat Day”, or “Outer Slabovian Independence Day” - pick a strange commemoration and I was all over it making my cake. Decorating it with frosting (of course) and writing some of the event on the cake. My audience were my parents who would enjoy the cake of the day and the paradoxical event to which it was dedicated. Looking back it strikes me that I could not just bake a cake - the cake had to have a purpose - a meaning. Growing up we did not have a lot of “things”. I had a good amount of toys of the day but nothing like today where parents have to make sure there is an entire room of the home dedicated to “toys”. No - in those days we had what we had. I do not believe my need to make connections to things had manifested itself as of yet. Although those cakes were certainly an indicator of that attitude. Now, surveying the museum that I am currently the curator of - immersed in the remnants of the life I shared - I am constantly struggling with the meaning that all the artifacts around me communicate. As I have written before - this struggle has been a constant. Whether it is purely grief that is responsible or my proclivity to attach meaning to everything - the ongoing dialog I have with these “things” is unrelenting. And tiring. Not only do many of them invoke what made them significant - either how we acquired the item, what it represented or the moment in time in which the artifact started its life of meaning - they represent my wife in endless ways. The paradox of the immense meaning of the item clashing with the fact the person I shared this rich meaning with is no longer present - is one of the constant burdens of this state of grief. I ask myself, “How do I go on in this conflict?” - because it is a conflict. The emotions at work here are powerful. There is this deeply emotional component as well as this harsh “you’ll get over it” echo that fights with my stability quite regularly. It is perhaps one of the coming revelations that is ahead at some point. That element of “newness” which will emerge at some future time ahead. How does the meaning, the connection with my past life that is reaching out to me through my environment ever lessen? To the unemotionally, clinically, knowledge-based observers - they would tell you, “Oh, in time he will see that his life will go on and these issues will fade into the background of his life.” Well I do not buy that. Perhaps this is a bit of denial? Or maybe quite a lot of denial. My observation from the beginning is that whatever my life is to become has to be new. I know this because any attempt to do anything I have done in the past - is just not possible. There is a level of pain involved that cannot be expressed in our limited human language. Because of that reality then - I am quite immobilized at the moment. I mentioned to someone the other day that I am “between lives” right now. I have no life other than obligations of the day and any vision of what is coming is totally unknowable. In this transitory place then - the reality of each day is quite distasteful. I am living in a place where the world I long to have but is gone is connected to me at every level imaginable. The references to that life all around me. Calling to me - reminding me of what has been lost. My continual prayer is that this grief - this struggle - will be transformed into strength. A foundation rather than a shell of what was. A powerful force to strengthen me with everything that was good and true about what was. Something to build upon rather than something to keep me immobilized. All it will take is that coming moment. That new thing. The element that will transform the power of the extraordinary relationship I was blessed to experience into that extraordinary “new” element. That new connection.

Written Monday, February 24, 2020 / Day 196 / Afternoon In assessing my plight, I am constantly tripping over myself in attempting to arrive at some resting place. Most thought patterns end up in a tangled mess in my mind as I try to contemplate what is going to happen. In the background silence of my life, the loss of conversation, the lack of interactions - the continual treadmill of emotions - there is this calling to a coming state of life. For now it is always shrouded in fog - not visible in any way - yet I know it is there. As far as I am concerned, my resounding affirmation of not wanting a future continues with a strength that amazes me. It is like the gas stove that is useless unless the pilot light is lit. For me - mine is out. And if I have anything to say about it - that light will continue to stay out. As each day becomes the past - I look back at how many I have accumulated since this journey began. There are so many now - I have a difficult time looking back over all of them. Of course, I have told myself I will not re-live sadness about situations that are now resolved. Situations that are over. It’s like a left over casserole - it’s been sitting around too long to be appetizing. Eating from that dish would just make me sick - and for what reason should I eat of it? Yet, as I realize that six months plus have elapsed I fear perhaps what many in this situation fear - forgetting what is past. I have realized that I have my sweetie with me - in my very thinking - and there is a comfort associated with that idea. But at this point I am perhaps sad because the reality of our relationship has faded over this time as any aspect of our lives does. I think of the little boy who was talking to his father about flying on a trip in an airplane. The little boy was fearful of the idea - no matter how much his father attempted to comfort him. Thinking that it would be an encouragement - the father pointed to a plane flying over them in the sky. Describing all the wonderful things he could find to encourage his son - but despite all of his efforts - the father could not help the boy understand. Finally, the boy pointed to the plane in the sky and revealed his fear. “I don’t want to fly on a plane because then I would have to shrink and become small!”. From the boy’s perspective, the plane he could see in the sky was so small he could only think that to be on the plane meant having to shrink down to a tiny size - and that idea frightened him. Likewise, I see my past in that way right now. As time moves on - the past that filled my life, my sweetheart who was a part of every aspect of that life - just becomes smaller and smaller as we head away from that time. I am already saddened and then on top of that sadness - I see what was everything to me - reduced to a small point of time in the past. The present pushing all of what was aside to make way for its all absorbing future. That future which to me has no identity, no personality and - no purpose. For now. Apparently this struggle may just be a part of what has to happen. Although I am still too connected to everything that was everything to me. This is the most difficult aspect of today. The waves of this loss continuing to echo into my present while seemingly diminishing at the same time. I have a difficult time trying to decide what is worse. The loss itself - or the distance that I am now past the loss. I ran into Joann’s picture in a box of artifacts I was arranging. That’s all it took to immobilize me. To take me down the path of longing for her voice, her touch - all that I know is gone for now. These are the most disarming moments. I just hang on - as I have mentioned in the past - to the One who has seen me through to this point. He has me. He will get me through the gridlock as only He can. Because I know I cannot.

Written Saturday, February 29, 2020 / Day 201 / Morning One of the interesting elements I have found lately is that I no longer have any music in my heart. Initially, when this journey began I had a very limited list of 5 or 6 songs that were extremely meaningful. The last song we sang together in the ER, our love song that defined our relationship and several other meaningful melodies. I would play them in the car while driving - turning up the sound quite a bit and even singing the ones that had words. I don’t remember when the actual moment occurred but there came a point that I no longer could listen to any of those songs. Or any songs. I do not play the radio anyway - I subscribe to Pandora but have not used the service at all. There is no music in my life right now. That seems odd. And from what I can discern - I do not want any music right now. Perhaps the reason for this will become apparent at some point. For now though - it is just odd. Another side-effect of having a life destroyed I suppose. An equally odd event happened recently which in another context I might have found humorous. I was just flipping through the television channels looking for something - I do not remember what - and stumbled upon this quirky show. It caught my eye for some reason. It is not one I will watch on a regular basis but the way it was put together, several elements that were touchingly portrayed and the lead actor caught my attention. I really do not go for musical programs or shows anyway. As I was engrossed in these elements of the program, there was a song used - a remake of an earlier song, “I’ve Got the Music in Me”. It was put together so well, so intricately as it involved a large group of people and making that all work seamlessly is quite an effort. As I moved on to whatever was next, a new reality struck. I could not get this song out of my mind. It happens to all of us - some song just plants itself in your head and just lives there - continually playing in a loop. It was unsettling because as I would tell myself, “No, I do not have any music in me!”. As the song would echo through my mind. Hmmmmmmm. If I didn’t know any better I would say this is some sort of cosmic joke. Here the person with no music in his life has a song stuck in his head about having the music in him. So I went to research the words of the song. In modern music, the way it is played at times - you do not get to really hear all of the words. So I looked them up: "I've Got the Music in Me" by The Kiki Dee Band, released in 1974. Ain't got no trouble in my life No foolish dream to make me cry I'm never frightened or worried I know I'll always get by I heat up, I cool down When something gets in my way I go around it Don't let life get me down Gonna take it the way that I found it [I got the music in me] (3 times) [I got the music in me] (3 times) They say that life is a circle But that ain't the way that I found it I'm Gonna move in a straight line Keeping my feet firmly on the ground I heat up, I cool down I got words in my head so I say them Don't let life get me down Catch a hold of my blues and just play them [I got the music in me] (3 times) [I got the music in me] (3 times) Feel funky, feel good Gonna tell you, I'm in the neighborhood Gonna fly like a bird on a wing Hold on to your hat honey, sing, sing, sing Heat up, cool down I got words in my head so I say them Don't let life get me down Catch a hold of my blues and just play them [I got the music in me] (3 times) [I got the music in me] (3 times) The words are quite positive - yet I’m not really in the market for a theme song right now. However, the band continues to play. Of course this brings mind the reason that I do not currently have a song in me. In my life. In my heart. It was my dear sweetie. She was my song. She was everything as I have written about in past essays. That was the song that played in my heart - for 47 years. So when I lost her to this life, that’s when I lost my song. Perhaps what is going on now is something. It is dripping with irony and as I mentioned - if I was less in trauma - it would be a little humorous. So as the song continues to play, I will have this dialog in my head where this is all taking place. It is one of those situations that will most likely lead to somewhere. Some place. Perhaps a place where there will be music playing and there will be a song in my heart... ….again.

Written Saturday, February 29, 2020 / Day 201 / Evening Of all of the running themes in my journey with grief, lately I have been struggling with the amount of time that has passed since my journey began. For some reason, this sixth month threshold (as of February 12th) has created an extra contention amidst my constant chorus of contentions I must manage. And as we face in grief, our thoughts can go all over the place. My reaction at times has been, “So you mean I’m going to just get used to all of this?” - from which I declare, “No!!”. Yet knowing in the back of my cluttered mind that the reality of time passing will surely bring some of that prophecy to pass. Quite naturally, we do forget the intimate details of day-to-day life. New ones show up and become the focus - so quite naturally, those of the past fall away. If there was not some over-arching event, reason or occurrence that would make them stay - they do not stay. They go. And that has saddened me even more than usual. As I have written previously, I know that my wife and I shared something at a level that forever changed us at a foundational level. I know how she thought. How she reacted. Those things are still with me - because she is still a part of me in that way. But that day to day life - those daily interactions - I realize now that another mourning period is upon me. The time that I am now facing - that the reality of that aspect of my past life - while not only gone in the daily sense - will also be leaving in the sense that there is no new conversation, no new interactions to be enjoyed. Now our recent past was not all sunshine, lollypops and rainbows. Life was hard with what she faced. It was hard being the caregiver and so much more. And while that was not enjoyable at one level - I was honored and grateful that I could take care of her. My personal issues would take a bite of me at times - but my love for her was more powerful than any earthly thing that could come against it. And that love came from an inexhaustible source. It came from God. So reminiscing on that recent past is also a bit toxic. Even at this time when the overall toxicity of my life seems to have diminished greatly. My recollections that do surface - when they do - propel me into a tailspin of what was wonderful, funny and delightful cross connected to the most desperate, foreboding and painful emotions that can be generated. It is anguish at its best. Entrance into a place where there is no escape - no resolution and just plain despair. It was there. You were in it. You remember it. But now it is fading. It is diminishing - and there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing at all. When I pick myself up - like an NTSB investigation team - beginning to piece together the remnants of the plane that crashed - and trying to regain my composure - I launch into a recovery mode of sorts. It is a good thing that periods of this great contention do have an end. We just run out of energy to despair. We get beaten down. The storm passes. All that is left is to get up and see how to get back to the limited shell of a life that was operating right before the latest incident. Nagging there in the background is that constant reminder that time is passing. That the date my grief journey began is getting farther and farther away. In the recovery mode of not wanting to experience that time of impending doom as I saw it coming - is the relief of not dredging up that period and all that was associated with it. But in ignoring that time - I am also ignoring the life that contained it. I do not want the one - but want the other. But they are not compatible. They cannot exist with each other. Like matter and anti-matter they cancel each other out. Leaving….nothing. It is the life I now have - a life of nothing - as far as a life goes. I reflect on the physical blessings and they are many - but as far as an operating life is concerned - there just isn’t anything to operate. This mourning of the remnants of the past is another struggle. That is why these essays have been a blessing to me. Every few days - for over 6 months - a bit of each day has been captured. It has been recorded. It has been saved. It is certainly not enough to construct a life - but it is enough to save some memories that are trying to find the exit door. There are enough of them to give me something. Of course I cannot forget her - and when I am strong enough - which I am totally not at the moment - I can view some of the video records I have of her. I have a few and I know they will be a blessing at some point. They will keep some of her with me. When they are not so toxic - I know they will be a blessing. And I will know God will help me to remember her while He still wants me here. She will always be one of my foundations. A love, a relationship, an extraordinary connection that I will not ever forget. Because I can’t.

Written Monday March 2, 2020 / Day 203 / Afternoon I have always considered myself a patient person. Now as I actually examine that observation I have to say I am really not as patient as I had thought. I believe I have been confusing not having an obvious physical reaction to a trying situation as being patient. Perhaps it is on one level - but actually I see how impatient I have been. I can assess a situation - and long for a change or resolution or whatever - and when I do not see a solution coming - I do not get demonstrably upset - but mentally - well, there’s an entire rowdy frat-house of impatience in progress in my mind. As the months have rolled by - I dream of a mythical solution for my dilemma. Trapped of course by the tightly woven life I have left behind and the one who was everything - and still is. The last Sunday of February I had a session with a particularly heartfelt expression of my impatience. I pleaded to God for someone to have a conversation with about this journey. I lamented on the loss of my dear sweetie and how that loss has resulted in this excruciatingly quiet existence. I cried out to have some relief. And all I was asking for was a conversation. Because it is difficult to have them in our situations. I have no idea how to have them and the people we are with don’t want us upset either. As a result our friends and acquaintances do very little - or nothing. That’s just what I used to do. Even when there is a lunch or other encounter - the conversations are not all that deep. How could they be? For us in the world of grief - it is really that we live two lives. Our public persona is the one we use most of the time. It’s like the press release that really pasteurizes the actual news down to a safe, non-political, non-disruptive narrative. Meanwhile, in our back room - there is an endless fireworks display of emotional contentions taking place. Very intense moments that are left to the protected areas of our lives and are not for public consumption. But that dual life is tiring. We have no physical outlet. Grief support groups help to a degree - I have participated in several. But what we really want, really need - is that one-on-one time. That exchange of what is taking place in the back room. That sharing of the deepest contentions. A conversation. So my prayer was to please, please send me conversation. I’m not ready for a relationship - or something complicated. I can’t really even handle my basic life all that well - outside of my obligations. I just need to talk. To share. And to help someone else do the same. But where are they? How would I ever find someone? One week later - on the first Sunday of March, I was attending my 8th week of my new reality. That new church family. I had been selectively sharing some of these essays with a few leaders. They particularly enjoyed the one about my first encounter on that second Sunday of January. They have been a sort of a resume. And apparently God was using this to work something out. So here I was getting a seat. I sit in a different place each week since I don’t feel settled at all - but comfortable. It is a large auditorium and I was sitting a few rows down from the back in the middle this time. Just before services, here comes someone walking towards my seat in the middle row! I suspected a greeting as many have wonderfully done. As she approached I noticed - she had a glow about her (not an actual one) - this was really a positive person coming my way. I stand up and we meet. The Pastor’s wife said that she should come over and meet me. She said that if I ever want to talk that we could. She had a loss over a year before. Talk? Wow. And there it was. An answered prayer. And why do I doubt? Because I am impatient? Probably - there’s some some of that. But here was the exact answer to my prayer. God brought someone to meet me. We planned on meeting in a few days. It is all quite mind-boggling none-the-less. God sent His answer. And I have mine. A conversation is about to begin. That one I so desperately need. That one that God knows I need. And now it was time for it to come to pass. Praise Him!