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Written Monday, September 2, 2019 / Day 21 / Afternoon I have found an interesting problem among the plethora of new problems living with grief provides. By now - this is the beginning of the fourth week - the immediate circles of friends and acquaintances are aware of what has happened. The flow of cards and wishes has subsided as the news has gone through the network. Today as I was headed over to my son's - he sent me a message about picking up Chinese food for dinner. At first I thought that was a great idea. We go to a wonderful place near our home. But then the thought grabbed me - I would have to face them with the news. And they know nothing about what happened. Over the years we have become friendly with the owner - a sweet person who puts herself completely into her work. My wife took a special interest in her - we got to know her family a bit - her children as well. It wasn't a deep relationship but more than the normal customer one. So the thought of having to tell her the news completely threw me off. I cried at just the thought of it. So how well can this go in person? We decided on another dinner alternative but this episode brought to mind what was ahead. Telling acquaintances who have no idea of what happened - what happened. I don't want to shock anyone - but it will be a shock to them. They will react, of course - I know how I would react in such a situation. It brings to mind an optometrist we had known for decades. We had just moved to the area over 30 years ago and went to have our eyes examined. The optometrist was also new to the area. We followed his practice around. He was Italian like my wife so they got along famously and we had a good relationship with him. One December we received a notification from his practice informing us that the optometrist had suddenly passed away - the previous July 4th weekend! We were in total shock - disbelief and despair. Not only that we were prevented from the normal protocols (as I certainly know from just experiencing them myself). So we did not have a real closure there. It was bothering us regularly and when we would bring it up years later we still had a pang of grief. So I'm thinking that my news may not be that old - however, future encounters will likely create a wave of shock as well. I'm also worried about myself. We'll see what reality brings but I can just envision from their strong reaction that I may also have a strong reaction. Of all the things that I thought would bother me but did not, strong reactions from those who came to see me unexpectedly took me out. I will pray that any encounters will not be that traumatic. I'm sure they will be lurking ahead. And as they do I will pray for strength. I don't want to upset anyone - this can't help but do that. I'm sure they don't want to upset me - but as I'm learning - it's not the worst thing in the world. I've already experienced that. The aftermath will be a long continuing story. I only pray that strength will be there when I need it.

Written Monday, September 2, 2019 / Day 21 / Morning When you are sick an interesting thing happens. You are dealing with the affliction in whatever form it takes - it makes you have to stop your activities. You need a sick day. You rest - if you can - you take medications if you need to and just ride out the effects until they pass. You just stop your life for that time - and that's ok - because you are ill. You have to rest so you do. You don't bother with your normal responsibilities because you can't. You are outside of time for the duration. And within the affliction there is a kind of rest. Now your stomach may be in trauma, or you may be congested beyond belief - but under those symptoms - you are off the grid. You get a pass from life for a while. Now beginning my fourth week of grief I find I am in a similar situation. However the affliction is a new state of living. It has essentially taken me out of life for the moment. I am only part of the world administratively. I shop a bit, get gas for the car, pay the bills - just the things that have to be done. I may even try to mow the lawn in a few days. We'll see. But being out of this world puts you in a different category. My honest reaction is - I just don't care about anything right now. My "affliction" has taken me out. My symptoms, a paralyzed mind, a lack of energy. No ability to focus energy to be "social" - apart from a phone call or two. A feeling of emptiness that is profound and all encompassing. Occasional periods of complete despair followed by frustration and prolific tears. That's enough to keep anyone busy. Although it is quite taxing. For all the emptiness I feel - it is interesting that I feel an odd strength. The strength is that I have no apprehension about anything. I don't think you could intimidate me right now in any way. Most likely because I don't care. I feel impervious to threats, concerns or even my own health problems (I really don't have any I know of right now - but if one surfaced I'd have a tough time caring about it.). In the midst of feeling powerless I feel strong. This may be like what the apostle Paul wrote - something we quoted quite often in my wife's situation: So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. (2 Corinthians 12:9 NLT) I've got the weakness part all right - not too sure about the rest right now since I don't have any desire to care or do anything. But I see the point. It strikes me that I may not be ready for anything to change - and that's okay. There is no schedule right now - and absolutely no pressure. I will not allow pressure to come in. I've already have enough unwanted houseguests as it is - all I need is pressure to join them. So I will maintain my orbit as I view the world from this unique perspective. One I do not like at all - but one I am stuck with for the moment. I'll enjoy the view when I can and endure the realities as I have to. And pray that my day of readiness will come at the right time.

Written Sunday, September 1, 2019 / Day 20 / Morning Greeting card companies always mention memories in their sympathy cards. I know for I have received what is probably their current thinking on the subject from all the cards I have been receiving. Yes in grief, memories become a larger part of your life. I am having trouble sorting them out though. Memories of the last weeks and overall the last months seem to fall into several categories. The memories of the pain and discomfort and struggle can really be haunting. Those real experiences are ones I'd rather not experience again. The utter helplessness of those situations only pushes me further into a place of despair I would rather not be visiting. The suffering and all that went along with it is over. In my wife's view she only saw the suffering (as I do as well) as part of being a disciple of Jesus. The Bible tells a story of the sufferings of His disciples - too long to cover here but suffice it to say since we share in His suffering and at the resurrection (1 Thessalonians 4:16) we will share in His glory: And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering. (Rom 8:17 NLT) She was totally strengthened through her confidence in Christ - it was apparent to everyone around her. She baffled the doctors and staff with her attitude. So memories associated with this aspect of the past are not really welcomed by me. When they appear, I bat them away. I've already suffered through that, thank you - no need to re-suffer again when there's so much currently available to suffer about. And you want to remember them. It seems to be part of a protection element - holding on to this holds on to the person in your mind at least. In the state of grief I live in, I'll take any connection I have available. We can be particular about the food we eat, but given a starvation scenario what we would have considered trash in the past can become desirable. While painful memories of those we love can draw us, they aren't the quality of memories that will help stabilize us. Or are good for us. Or at least that's what my analytical side tries to tell me when I'm sobbing in grief about them. There are traps in thinking that we can get in to just as in a regular non-grief infested world. Any thoughts that don't take me to a better place are really a waste of energy. However, if a thought helps you understand, grow or learn - that's a great thought even if it is a painful one. The outcome will be to help you to grow - forward movement will be the result. But if painful thoughts show up and all they do is keep you where you are - well then, what good are they? It's like gossip - a juicy tidbit about someone else's life you probably should not be aware of anyway. They are interesting, intriguing since they appeal to our human nature - but what does it do for you? They are empty calories in a sense - all you can do is share them to get another kick. But have you helped the other person? Either the object of the tidbit or the recipient of the knowledge? Hardly. These are destructive - not helpful and ultimately - not loving. So these painful memories - if they help me understand something, gain, insight or help settle me in some way fine. But if I just play them back to relive pain and suffering, then what is the point of that? It really doesn't respect the person - or even yourself. It just digs the knife in deeper and we really don't need to have any more of that. But then there are the memories that do settle you. At least I hope I can find them. Right now I am so sensitive that memories of my sweetie tend to upset me anyway. I pray for a day that they won't. These aren't the painful ones, but the ones of our lives - the times we enjoyed the day to day things that were so day to day until they are the most important memories you could ever have - or preserve. So memory management is one of my new professions - I only want the ones that will strengthen me. But it is a battle - you have to be the bouncer at the door. None of those destructive painful memories allowed - your kind is not welcome here! While I am in no way moving on to anything at this point that I can discern, the good memories will be a foundation of the future me. The future me that will still be grieving - because this is a new part of our lives we will never be past in this lifetime - but that me will have a foundation of only the best of my sweetheart. It's a time I look forward to. But wait, here comes a memory - let me see what I'll do with it.

Written Saturday, August 31, 2019 / Day 19 / Evening In my case my wife and I thought we were on a side road that would lead us back to our lives together. As optimistic as we both were - the progression was not upward though we acted like there would be an uptick at any time. We had seen a miracle in my wife's health before. Who's not to say this could happen again. We had faith. The situation did not change for the better and as we coped we continued onward until God's answer was clear. On August 12, 2019 my sweetie was finally at peace. She trusted in whatever answer was ahead. And she was good with what God decided. On this side I grapple with that decision. One of the hardest of the endless list of hard things that are presently a part of my life is that those plans we made, those dreams we had were not to be. It is a bitter pill for me to swallow. I lash out not accepting it while knowing that the finality of the situation makes my protests a vain exercise. And yet the sting of lost dreams is one of the hardest reminders right now. Everything was interrupted - we were not prepared - I was retiring August 1st and we had ideas and dreams of what we could do with that time. All of that is not to be. But I want it to be. The futility of the thought process becomes quite tiring. Yet everything is now still so fresh - one moment looking ahead - the next with me sitting in a pile of rubble. The dreams represent us and what we had together. I am still madly in love with her and told her that daily. She knew I meant it - and we marveled at 47 years of such a bond. But now when I run across a trigger of something that was to be part of a dream - it is just too much. I stop and gasp internally and then try to work through it. Ending the dream is like ending the relationship. I no longer have a relationship because she is gone - now the dreams ahead have been replaced with the dreams I have of the past with her. The dreams are still here in me - in my mind - and there they will have to die just like my dearest sweetie has died. I want to hold on to them though because they are the part of her that I still have - a part of her no matter how transitory it currently is. I want to hold on to something - so I hold on to those dreams. I will have to let go of them at some point. I know it is a fruitless exercise - but for now I will keep them with me. Keep them with me until God can heal my broken heart.

Written Saturday, August 31, 2019 / Day 19 / Afternoon I was thinking I wasn't really angry about what has happened. But now, several weeks past the event, I am finding some anger emerging. I am not really angry at God - but the other day I did confront him with the challenge to take care of me since He was responsible for my loss. My wife had put that in His hands and the answer was not to intervene. Okay, so since you allowed that to happen - you have a responsibility to lift me out of this pit! As a caregiver for over 4 years and as a full-time employee during most of that time - I had to put myself aside. I have written in other essays how that was not a problem for me - I gladly gave myself to my wife - never regretting a moment of that service. But now - in the tranquility of the aftermath of the gigantic bomb that went off - I find myself without the constant and unyielding obligations that I faced most of the time. Nothing to do. And then there's the absence of my dear wife. The silence is deafening. What is emerging now however is - I think - me. I was buried under all of that and now that I am in this new place a few things are becoming clear. I am alone and unprepared for the experience. Now I don't mean that I could have been trained for where I am now - no that's not what I'm saying - I mean that my personality is having a chance to do something it has been incapable of doing for so long. Assert itself. Not only is that unprecedented to me - it is also quite awkward. My life was sort of on automatic. Sure I made decisions with my wife on things and she would try to accommodate me because she loved me - but those were only isolated situations. I am now in charge. And it is strange. But then I start to think - "Hey, this just isn't fair! How am I suppose to know how to do [whatever the thing is]? This is just wrong! Plus I am lost and empty and have had my dear sweetheart ripped from my life and I'm suppose to go on somehow? How? This is just wrong!" So perhaps this is where I get a little snippy with God. Well thanks for helping her out of her suffering - you know how that was just tearing me up every moment that she was impaired. It was your answer and she was prepared for it - had accepted it. But thanks a lot - I'm still here! And I'm suffering...hello? Anyone? So I'm angry at the situation - that I don't have any relief from the anguish and do not see how this is going to be resolved any time soon. And thank you very much, I don't want to do anything anyway...and you can't make me! It's quite a show actually when I hear myself rant. I have to think this is part of the process. I hope it will end. I'm glad I don't have a cat. I wouldn't want it to get hurt when I'm ranting.

Written Friday, August 30, 2019 / Day 18 / Evening One of my problems is that I am emotional and sentimental. I am the person who attaches meaning to things and therefore has a problem parting with things. One of the first feelings that swept over me when I came home that first night was how intense would be the emotions everything that had a connection to my wife would project to me - and that was really was everything in the house. The weight of those moments were breath-taking. Memories were being triggered - since we had left abruptly there were things in process that remained just the way we left them. With her not being there and the chorus of things calling to me - it was overwhelming. It was like radiation. I endured it for the first night rather tenuously and then told my son the next day that I would have to stay at his house until I could stand to enter the radiation zone again. When I'd stop by for the mail, clothes, toiletries, etc. the radiation was still there - and everything that was associated with her took a bite out of me. I stayed a week at my sons home and then attempted to try a night back at my home. It was tolerable so I could now sleep or at least have moments of unconsciousness that I'd hope would become sleep. I got the idea to wash all of the bed linens and pillow cases and covers as she'd like to do - and remake the bed without some of the trappings that were hers. This did help to make it a little more neutral. And so as the days unfold I press on through the emptiness. My wife would always write a note in the lunches she made for me when she was making them. When she was not making the complete lunch, she'd still include a little note in the sandwich or snack bag each day - always making up some cute little comment about something relevant in our lives. I'd of course, save the note because it would make me smile and it was a part of her - I felt that way even then. So imagine my surprise when looking through things - I found an 8x12 envelope full of these notes! I had saved them! Now hugging the envelope I thanked God for this tiniest bit of her I could still savor amidst the emptiness that was now my life. What an incredible blessing. I was looking for something on her desk - she had a desk she used and took care of our finances which I am working to discover - and found her monthly planner. It was full of occasion references and other notes. I thanked God once again that I could have this wonderful representation of her to comfort me. The comfort in a time of grief though is sort of like an empty calorie. It seems to satisfy but there then is the awful aftertaste. The flood of memories rush in - then the reality of the moment steps in to remind me that they are only memories. But I'll take what I can. I know I can't rebuild her in any way - her unique personality is no longer available. My love for her still exists however. Wrapped into my DNA where I'm not sure it can be unraveled - nor would I ever want it to be. I was putting something in our overflow refrigerator - a small one we have in our back hall that was always so helpful to keep extra food and supplies. And while I was moving things around - there was one of the apple sauce containers she would put in my lunch in a fold-over plastic bag...with one of her notes in it! I cried like a baby. Like a message in a bottle - it was a piece of her ready to connect to me. I put it back in for a future moment when perhaps I might not be so emotional. Like crumbs on the table after a piece of cake has been cut, these little remembrances are oh so valuable. No Mr. Gates, I don't believe that remembrance is for sale at any price - it's value is beyond a price. I know there won't be all that many of them - but I'll savor each one as I navigate through this dark empty place I am now residing in.

Written Friday, August 30, 2019 / Day 18 / Morning I believe in God. That's not a question. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob as the Bible says. My wife and I were students - for 24 years we studied without anyone telling us what we had to believe. The Bible taught us. The apostle Paul on one of his journeys to the gentiles preached in a place called Berea. The Bereans were unique - they heard Paul's message then went home and searched the scriptures to see if what he said was true. My wife and I were like that - we'd listen to ministers and then do what the Bereans did. We checked. Sometimes we found the truth - other times we found man's thinking folded into their message. Because of this we had a strong understanding based on the Bible - not what we hoped it said or what everybody thinks it says - but what it actually says. There's a big difference there - but today's topic is the kind of conversations we have with God. The thing about God - is that when He's calling you (and the Bible says that God reaches out to us (John 6:44)) you begin a conversation with Him. In the past I would have them. Prayer is also part of that conversation. I've practiced many forms of prayer - from the trite (to God I'm sure) to what I came to understand as heartfelt. There were two situations in my life I would tell you were the most heartfelt times of prayer I ever experienced. One was at an out of town wedding where I became deathly ill (it had been coming as I look back to the events preceding the trip) when the affliction manifested itself right before we were headed on a bus the couple had rented to take us to the church. Not only was there embarrassment in having such an issue at such a wonderful event - I was relegated to a lower floor of the church to hug a toilet in between gut wrenching periods in an adjacent garden area while the ceremony took place above in the main church building. I was praying from the depths of my soul - in gut-wrenching pain and I remember telling God in the midst of it - if he would heal me of this affliction I would be so grateful - but even if He didn't I would never stop believing in Him. Never. Well He didn't restore me. It was a multiple day process and we hobbled home - my wife driving the entire way back from Boston, MA to Richmond, VA with one overnight stay. I was a mess for the entire next week as I slowly recovered. The other time was in April, 2015 when my wife's cancer manifested itself. Months of the most gut-wrenching prayer time ever. Made the garden experience seem a bit basic! I read all the gospels - went on the internet and must have read every healing ministries web site content that I could. I told God the same thing I had said in the garden in that Boston church yard - please heal my sweetheart - you know the depths of my love for her - lift her out of the pain - restore her. I made the same comment I had in Boston - even if you do not heal her - I will never stop believing in you because I know you are there. Nothing happened for the weeks and months that followed - until the daily morphine treatments were systematically discontinued and her debilitating pain was NO LONGER THERE. And then the CT scan taken next WAS COMPLETELY CLEAR. God had answered my prayers. It was humbling. I had my sweetie back. I was beyond grateful. She was a little weaker afterwards though - I used to say - "Wow you've been healed! Now we're just older!" But just dealing with age issues was a much better life! So it was on the third Thursday after she left me that I had a particularly heartfelt conversation with God. Of course I have been having them all along. I find I am not praying before meals right now because that would mean that you'd have to take your mind off yourself and stop to focus on God to thank Him for the blessing of the meal. I didn't need to do that because I was already talking to Him! All the time. But on that night I was sitting in her desk chair and in going through things to figure them out (this was her desk so her particular order of things is lost on me) - I found her monthly planning calendar. It is filled with dates and occasions for which there is a box full of greeting cards bought in advance in monthly sections on the desk. I scanned July and August - looking at the last things she had written. I just broke down. I had forgotten grief was right behind me. I sat there sobbing with tears streaming down my face. I went through my logic routine...you took her...she was good with that...I was there with her...you brought Linda and Chuck to be with us....but I'm alone now...I want my life back....and down I would go. In the midst of this a thought struck me - one I had the other day - but not as forceful as this one. Yes you took her - I accept that BUT you did take her and now I'm alone. I know I'm suffering for a lot of reasons - but since you took her - you need to take care of me! Lift me from this place - it is your responsibility to relieve me from the inexplicable, unfathomable grief I am experiencing. My wonderful relationship I had with her is over - but I'm not over it nor do I ever want to be. Just take this away from me! I know you can. You took her - so now take care of me! I sat there for a while longer - who knows how long then got ready for bed. Restless at 6 am the next morning I got up had a half a graham cracker and some water (that was one of her morning rituals) - mindlessly watched the weather and local news on the television then went back to bed a bit. Three hours later I woke up. Several things were different. This gripping cramping in my abdomen was significantly relieved. I knew it was from the six weeks of this non-stop intensity that was my life. I didn't - nor would I - even bother going to a doctor. I didn't need 12 years of medical training to know it was connected and that it would dissipate in time. Well it did - in a big way. Next I was sort of rested. It has been unusual to be rested. Even before now - rest was not always restful. My wife would have trouble sleeping generally - and that would mean I would also not sleep so well. So this feeling of restfulness was completely foreign - but welcome. It was like a warm towel right out of the dryer - soft and comforting. Then I had awoken from an interesting dream. I was in a company - a take on my prior job perhaps and I was preparing to leave the company. I was getting a new job. There was a fellow I needed to transition my work to. In the dream none of the details were clear other than there was knowledge to leave and it was close to the time I would have to leave. A comment I made in the dream stayed with me. As I was talking to the person I would be transitioning to - I told him that it wasn't so much about the technical details I needed to tell him about the job - but it was how I approach a problem that I needed to help him understand and learn. And then I awoke. There I was - rested, with significantly less pain in my abdomen with a tidbit of how to approach life. Was this an answer to a heartfelt prayer - or what? So this is where I am starting the day. The crater is still there - the surrounding area still devastated. Wreckage in the area as far as the eye can see. But today a single flower bloomed in the midst of the disaster. I knew it was true - there is hope. And there was one taste of it for me.

Written Thursday, August 29, 2019 / Day 17 / Afternoon #1 Grief, I'm finding centers around a point in time. At least for me it does. That point for me was the end. I use the fortunate word loosely because it wasn't fortunate at all (at least in my current state of thinking) but fortunate that we did see it coming. It is hard for me to imagine the sudden deaths that occur - accidents, unexpected health issues or other tragedies. In my case there was an order to it - in that order I have a weird peace although I am profoundly devastated in my current state. We were contending although seemingly knowing that the trajectory was down. One element God added to these final hours was my wife's closest girl friend of her youth - the person she had spent so much time with and had that lifelong connection to - she was able to be with us for those final hours. That's something I only partially had a hand in - she had wanted to come a week earlier and I held her off - to wait. Then when we were in the hospital again - something told me to tell her to come. They arrived on Sunday afternoon. My wife spent two hours with her while her friend's husband took me out to eat. Those were uncomfortable moments for me - being away from her. But those two hours with her dear friend gave me joy - and continues to be a gift to me even though I was not a part of the conversation. As far as conversations went, she wasn't conversational at all. I think her coping had taking that away from her. I understood. That meant the time with her friend was even that more special - I knew it cost her a lot of energy to be engaged for that long. When they left on Sunday around 6 - my wife was restless. Trying to be settled. That was a constant theme. They gave her what they gave her - always trying to deal with the immediate issue. I tried to rest but could not as long as she was in distress. Passing out at times for 15 minutes or so until she called the nurse for something or another. These were painful moments. In grief we seem to be drawn back to those moments. They hold us for some reason. I believe it because we want to hold on to the person any way we can - and even if it is a painful moment - it is a moment with them. I was rubbing her legs because she loved that and I thought it would counteract the current discomfort. I cry right now as I'm wiring these words. I remember while I was rubbing her to drink in those moments - as awful as they were - because she was still with me and even if I could not speak to her conversationally - I was sending my love through the only way I could reach her. It gave me a strange comfort - and today it still does as well. It was 2:45 at night when the nurses efforts along with the on call floor doctor began to get to me. I called the Palliative on call doctor to have them weight in on the situation. In my call - my frustration took over and I asked the doctor, "Is this it? Or are we on the way to it?". The answer was that this was it. I asked whether I should call my son and the doctor said I should. So I made three calls - to my son, my wife's friend and to my wife's brother. He was out of town and not able to be with us as he was with their 94 year old mother who could not travel. By the time they all got there - looking back - it was another 6 hours that we stood watch. I rubbed her legs, hugged her - I know she knew there was no question that I loved her. I just didn't want her to go - but her breathing was so labored - I prayed that God would hear our prayers for her peace to come. Each breath was like a knife in my heart. No wonder it is so broken. And then at 10 minutes to 10 am she paused in her breathing - took two small breaths which were her last. Now she was at peace. Her spirit was now with God. As Jesus, during His ministry when faced with death would say, "They are just sleeping". And so was my dear sweet Joann - sleeping at last. It was a staggering, overwhelming, catastrophic, gut wrenching, overpowering moment. Her journey had ended. Mine however would continue. I am drawn back to this moment because for me it settles some things and makes some statements. Many of which I do not want to accept. When my grief sessions come - this moment continues to be at the core of them. She is settled - she is not in pain. She is awaiting the resurrection. God taught her about that through the Bible. It is finished. But then for me - I am alone. She is no longer here to be my partner. I love her so much I cannot comprehend going on in any credible way without her. I miss her presence so much. She is not here but I am. It hurts. It just hurts. And in my grief - those final hours will be the foundation for my future. A future I do not want nor care about right now. A future that will come. In its own way and in its own time.

Written Thursday, August 29, 2019 / Day 17 / Daybreak #2 Life is full of patterns, of cycles. There are days, weeks, months and years. There are the seasons. There are things we must do each day - routines. We must shop, eat, clean ourselves and our homes. Cycles are everywhere - they are a part of us. That is until we lose someone. For me the cycles in my life do not exist. I grudgingly deal with the ones I must deal with. But apart from those - there really aren't any cycles in my life - nor do I care about or want most of them. You see they connect me with the one who is no longer here to share them. The one who made them live. The thought of dealing with them without her is too much to grasp right now. It just isn't possible. I don't want to be reminded of what I know has happened. I know I am playing a game with myself. Like setting the alarm 10 minutes ahead so that you won't be late yet subtracting the 10 minutes from the time I see so I can have those 10 minutes. It a little like that. She's gone so why does it matter. And to a degree I can see why - it's a small power I have. I don't want to cope. Or be "strong" -whatever that means - I just don't want to think about what is staring me right in the face. It's a small power - very small - but it's all I have so I'll use it. It's like an anesthetic - it deadens the pain - sort of. Not completely for sure. But in the action department right now where my options are somewhat limited - it is something I have at my disposal. So I'll use it. It's all I've got. How can I contemplate any pattern of my life that I could return to without her next to me? Impossible. It's too painful to imagine. What I am thinking - perhaps as a defense mechanism - is that everything will be different. It just has to be. I will have to return to some aspect of the past - only without the trigger of her not being there. That may mean new places where there is no history. Perhaps new people I have yet to meet. New everything. And while that seems like a plan - in my broken heart - I don't want her memory to be replaced by the newness. I already lost her once - how can I purposely go on and replace her with new things that weren't a part of her. It's too titanic a conflict for my emotionally taxed consciousness to handle. It's the way to the future - replace the past - there. Done. Wait. I still want my past - I want my sweetie. I know she's not here - but how can I hold on to her? At one level she will never go away - I just won't tolerate that idea. Ever. She will still be around. I had her ring on the counter and one day put it on my little finger where it fit. It gave me a strange peace. A reminder of her - yet with a kick of despair and sadness - but I need her so much I'll take a little despair with that, thank you. I found in several situations, going with other people to a place, living a cycle with others that I had experienced with her in the past helps soften the sting of the memories. Wow - I want the memories but they are sort of toxic at the present. Having others seems to soften the intensity. Not sure if I could be there alone yet. I did something totally out of character the other day. On the way back from an errand it was lunch time and there was a lunch spot we had gone to in another town - they had a location where I was. So I went in by myself. I dislike eating alone. But there I was - at a table by myself - having the chicken salad sandwich we once shared at the other location by myself. I had my trusty tablet device with me - so I texted my son and my sweeties dear friend to share with them what was happening. Quite strange - yet not overly emotional - yet honoring the one I miss so much. Shades of the future? Who knows. But I survived it. And I will survive the future as well. It will just take time. And prayer. And strength I do not have. But the strength will come. It's just not here yet. But it will come. in its time.

Written Thursday, August 29, 2019 / Day 17 / Daybreak One of the many recurring themes of this loss I am experiencing is that of emptiness. My prior life was full. Full of responsibilities, obligations, dreams, desires and plans. My life today is one of emptiness. The differences is that the one - for me - who was a part of all those responsibilities, obligations, dreams, desires and plans is no longer here. And without her - all of those things are not possible. The emptiness is staggering. I understand why I am in a neutral state of mind right now. Emotionally I'm all over the map - from the depths of despair to the fleeting moments of equilibrium - that rhythm seems constant yet also unpredictable. In my emptiness - I am just neutral. Somewhat insulated actually - from everything. Nothing really matters. Now I'm still responsible - I'm paying bills that come in, meeting obligations that I cannot defer - but apart from those tasks - you couldn't motivate me right now even if you had the best most talented motivator in the world to encourage me. It all doesn't matter today. Ho hum is my mission statement right now. And I'm good with that. But the emptiness - it is lurking behind the scenes. For moments I am engaged in a task, a phone call, an email, in reading something that is a diversion - but once the activities end and I run into a trigger (which here at home is just about anything and everything) I descend to the reality that I am just empty. We then tend to go back to the last moments when we were not empty. For us grappling with loss, those are those last months, weeks, days or hours while we still had the one who filled our lives. As painful as those moments might have been - at that point we still had them. Our connection was there no matter how tenuous it might have been. But now - there is nothing there. How does this change? I have no idea. The emptiness brings the tears, the grief. Depending on the circumstances that may be a tear or a flood or a tsunami - you can never tell. Remembering the good times is mentioned in grief counseling. That is inevitable of course - but at this point for me - I want my life back and it's not coming back. The emptiness is becoming a strange companion. Unwanted, undesirable - yet when I look around - it's all I've got. Now don't get me wrong - many are reaching out to me - and I am reaching out as much as I can with my current limited energy level - that does provide moments of distraction. So do the duties of life - or the threads of life experienced without the one I have lost - those moments are almost normal because she had not been a part of them. But they do not last. Sooner or later I am back with my new unwanted friend. The friend I try to ignore but cannot. So what is to be the answer? The future? In my neutral world I acknowledge that there will be a coming time when the emptiness will be tempered somehow - somehow in a way I can't foresee. I know that it will happen. Change it will. I acknowledge that. But I am in lonelyville right now - and like it or not - I'm going to have to make it work. That's where I pray to my God to make that happen. He knows the way out for me. And I trust Him to take me there. Just not today, thank you. My new friend and I are trying to figure each other out. I don't like my new friend at all. But for now it's all I've got. For now.