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Written Wednesday, August 28, 2019 / Day 16 / Late Evening What I have come to understand about grief is that there is no understanding it. Sure there are those in the scholarly realm who have their stages, and phases and layers of grief which they will eagerly share with you. The only trouble is that actually experiencing grief in no way resembles what the pundits proclaim. Experiencing grief is as unique as each person's individual situation. Certainly there are shared aspects - the loss, guilt, loneliness to name a few. But our grief is unique and related to our specific loss and our circumstances. I went home the first night to stay - several people mentioned to me that it was a bad idea - but I went anyway. What I found was a breathtaking anxiety and overwhelming feeling of loss. We had left unexpectedly on a Thursday evening when it became clear I was no longer able to handle the situation and the medical world had not really discerned that I was in such a place and had not offered any real help. We had left. That was the last time my wife was to see our home. When I returned and felt her presence in everything it was just too much. For some reason I did not flee - but I should have. Instead I tried to sleep - with the bathroom light on - very uncomfortably until the morning when I called my son to tell him I would have to stay with him for a while until I could handle it. The overpowering feeling of loss - emptiness and despair was just more than I could handle. When you are with people you seem to be able to maintain a bit of composure even if you are having an extreme emotional moment. But at home - with no one else there - the despair and hurt is just too much. It wasn't a pretty sight. Thankfully no one could see it. I cried out for her - I cried out to God to help me. Staying away for a week was helpful. But on my return home - even for a short stop to pick up clothes or forgotten toiletries, the emptiness and loss was just too much. Sobbing. Crying. Wailing really - the hurt was reaching out to be released. And there was a lot to release, so much without an end...only pausing when there could physically be no more tears. You ask yourself questions that you already know the answer: "Why did God take you?", "How could you be gone?", "How can I live without you!". You actually are shouting the questions to the empty room. She's gone and that's just all there is to it. But that is not all there is to it - she is gone...and I need her back! Her faith - our faith is strong. We know there is a God and for 19 year we studied the bible without any denomination or church culture to tell us what we believe. We actually studied together and searched the scriptures and found God there. An ever present comfort to us. We learned biblical teachings that are sure and learned about God's plan for the world and how this broken world would see a new era when Jesus returns as he said in Acts 1:11. My wife had that assurance that as Jesus told those around him when there was someone who died that "they are asleep..." that she would also sleep. We know that we would sleep until that glorious day when He would return and we would be resurrected (Colossians 3:3-4) to serve with Him in His Kingdom (Revelation 5:10). She had that and took it with her as her condition worsened - took it to the doctors and to the staff that cared for her. She was good with that - I was also good with that. But there was only one problem. I was still here. And the love story I shared with her for 47 years was over. Ended. Finished. But I was still here. I still love her with my whole heart. I took care of her like no one else could. I set my life aside for her. And now she was gone. I was left to have a life without her. The only problem was that I did not want a life without her - thank you. I wanted a life with her. Yet that was not to be. So the anguish would begin again. The absolute reality of the situation fighting the tremendous love I have for her - continually collided. Continually clashed. Because there was no resolution to the situation. She was gone. I was here without her. And so the grief would continue. I did not blame God - because she was okay with whatever the outcome was. We had an absolute miracle 4 years previously. Stage 4 breast cancer - metastasized to the bone - painful, debilitatingly overwhelming cancer. The CT scan black - unnatural metabolic activity throughout her body. Four months of oral treatment with a new type of drug - as well as 90 mg of morphine a day to knock the pain down to a tolerable but never really gone level. And then the miracle. As the morphine dosage was systematically reduced we feared the return of pain. It never returned. And the next CT scan - showed no abnormal metabolic activity. Evidence that cancer had been there but was not actually there. Bone restored. It was truly a miracle. We knew it was possible - just would it be possible - again? The answer this time was no. She was good with that. Facing the situation that I only experienced from the outside - gave her a perspective I could never appreciate not being the patient. Her belief made her ready to accept God's decision. I thought I did as well. Her suffering gratefully ended. She is asleep awaiting the call. I on the other hand am still here. Wreckage on the ground unable to function without the other part of me that made me function. The loss is excruciating. Relentless. It comes in waves...you can cope for a while then there's a point where it all breaks down. I'm praying all the time - and I know others are as well. I know that it helps because there is a peace I realize is holding me. It stays a while. Then it leaves for a while. And I miss her all the more. We will continue this for the foreseeable future I'm sure - who knows how long. Perhaps there is a maturity with grief - if I experience it I'll let you know. But it's a painful trip. A trip of heartache. Grief is like that - and we have to accept it as the way to get to whatever is next. Whatever that will be.

Written Wednesday, August 28, 2019 / Day 16 / Evening One of the aspects that I have found in my grief experience is the loss of a context of time. Sure there are days, and hours as normal - but in every other way - everything about my life has stopped. Nothing coming up on the schedule - nothing to get ready for - nothing at all. As the days pass though I do sense that we are advancing through time - yet for me personally - I have nowhere to go - nothing to do - nor do I really even care about any of that. Now there are the tasks that need to be done - a quick shopping trip, an errand to the post office, etc. but these are just little things that require attention. As far as plans go - there just aren't any. In my case I did everything with my wife - and now that I am alone - for the moment my attitude is what's the point? After the flurry of the first two weeks - it was quite an intense set of duties related to the arrangements and service - setting up things and working through them. Now that it is all past - there really isn't anything I care to do - nor do I have the inclination to want to do anything at all. Mainly because I don't have the energy to focus on anything other than an obligation - but anything beyond the basics, eating, laundry, etc. there just isn't any way anything extra CAN happen. The experience of death is so misunderstood by everyone - and the closer you are to ground zero - the more intense the loss will be. If your day-to-day life is inextricably linked to another person and that person is no longer there - well, what can you really expect? The loss is profound. And depending upon the intensity of the relationship, the depth of it, the meaning of it - any activity outside of that construct is just not possible. The loss is just too great. That is where I am. I cannot entertain the thought of doing anything I used to do with my wife - without her. Just the thought of some of those things is too intense to bear. So as a result - none of those things will be happening. My thinking is that everything will be different. That's fine on one level - but practically it means nothing will be happening. And actually I do not want to do anything right now anyway. Nor do I have the energy to marshal for anything. I've mentally had some days plotted out, do this, then that, then another thing. But in reality when the time comes I just say, "never mind." And I just do nothing. After all there is no schedule now - once the obligatory things are done - the notifications, the settling of arrangements - there just isn't anything requiring attention. Because moving forward would mean there is a purpose, a reason to move forward - and right now - there is no future without the biggest part of my past. So I choose nothing. It is a time of healing. Thankfully I don't have anyone telling me to get going (yet). If I get any of that I will be gracious but politely continue on doing nothing. There will be a point at which that will change - I'm just not going to put a date on the calendar...yet. In my case - I was also a caregiver for 4+ years. A constant state of service - to the exclusion of any of my interests as a rule - there was really very little for me - it was all focused on her. (And gladly provided mind you - there is no remorse on that.) But the absence of that sustained pressure coupled with the closeness of our relationship and the loss there - has just overloaded my capacity to operate. So each day is on its own. The day will take me to what it needs to take me. And I am not going to push - at all. And no one will be able to make me because I won't. It just hurts too much at the moment. Now there will be things on the schedule - joining my son's family for a week at the beach. Perhaps a seminar on writing to help with grief after we return. But there is not a real plan. How can there be plan without the person who was everything to me. How can there be? There just can't be right now. There is a certain energy needed to have a conversation - to engage people and right now that energy is not present. I'm not saying I will never do anything - I'm just saying for the foreseeable future there won't be anything. We'll see what tomorrow brings. I know my sweetie won't be there - and until I can see a future without her - tomorrow is just a concept I know I'll someday embrace when it's time.

Written Wednesday, August 28, 2019 / Day 16 / Afternoon One of the things I am grateful for is that I do not seem to have regrets at this time. None of the "if only I had..." or "I wish I had..." moments. In that I feel secure. Although it may seem odd to some - but after 47 years I am still madly in love with Joann. I told her I loved her all the time - I would try to stop and give her a hug or come up behind her chair and embrace her from behind...any time I could touch her was a treat. It makes the present just that much harder. Sure, I saw what was happening and because of that I had mentally been thinking about ..."what if..." - so it was not a strange thought - just a thought I did not want to entertain. I did everything I could think of for her. I knew she expected it and required me to set aside my desires and ideas for me - so I could fulfill what she needed. It was difficult for her to get ready. She had her own regimen as we all do - of course ladies do always have a few more steps than us men - but that comes with the territory. As with any routine - we had one - it was just all based on what she needed and I made sure I was there to provide whatever the need was. Actually I don't believe I ever regretted any of the demands. Now they were an intrusion into my world, and some could not be planned - but whatever they were - they were just what I did for her. She so did not want to be so needy but she forged on and I propelled her as much as I could. I am so grateful that I don't look back on any of that time and lament about not being there for her. As I mentioned, that does give me an element of peace. At least when the waves of grief do come - they are not peppered with the elements of regret. I did everything I could for her and when I cry out to God for relief I tell Him that I was always there for her and that He knows that is true. And what of the end? Those final weeks in retrospect were weeks of coping. I believe we thought we would just get past whatever was the impediment of the day was. Ever the optimists, we forged on - although if we were an airplane, we kept flying as the parts of the plane were falling off ever hopeful we would somehow get it back into the air. But the descent was slow and certain. The forces were in place to take us to where God was taking us. Not to the shared retirement dreams we had for the future but to God's plan where He would take her and prepare me for some future which as of this date I do not want and cannot even contemplate without her. It was painful and excruciating for me to witness what I was experiencing with her. Trying to keep her comfortable...trying to do the routine things in the hospital so a nurse would not have to do them. She could not lift herself out of bed - that was actually always an issue for her - but at home she would roll a certain way that an orthopedic doctor had taught her years before and manage to complete the task. In early July and continuing on towards the end though, I had to help her. I would put my right arm behind her back and when she was ready, slowly lift her up. All the time she was worried that I would hurt myself. That's just like her. In the hospital I had to put my right arm behind her and almost embraced her in the bed before pulling her up. I would get into position and there we were facing each other. I would stare at her and say, "So what do we have here?” and give her a kiss before lifting her up. The final few times she did not want to be kissed which told me she was coping with a lot she did not want to let on. It only made me more troubled with where this was all going. Another little part of the plane falling off. It's odd when you look back at a situation that played itself out and you cannot look back with a lot of insight about what you would have done differently. The only one I had was that perhaps God would heal her. But that was not to be be the conclusion I prayed for. Instead I pour out my heart, the heart I poured out for her and try to leave a little of it on this paper. I don't know what the answer is. The cliché is time of course - the prevailing though is that you'll "get on" with your life. Except my life had two parts - mine and hers and without hers I really don't have an interest in just about anything right now. God will reach down and deal with me I'm sure. Even though I will continue to wrestle with this for some indeterminate time period - at least I can have the small satisfaction that I served her well, with my whole heart, in every way I could - and never did I regret a moment of that service or the legacy that it now represents to me.

Written Monday, August 26, 2019 / Day 14 / Evening There is no comfort in grief. There are only periods of time where you are between episodes. Now two weeks after, I face uncertain days. My practical side knows this and all the cliché's that people will say. The side that is still madly in love with her is just in trauma. Everyone is different - in our case I was still madly in love with her. God granted me an incredible love for her. Now it wasn't perfect - there were stresses and issues for sure - but underneath them all was this love. She would often ask me about me loving her and that she was sorry she would irritate me. I tried to tell her that the love I had for her was different than the irritations of the day. I knew she didn't get that - apparently this was my love for her and only I understood it and then only partially. I told her I loved her every day - I took the time to hug her, hold her and reassure her that I was still crazy about her. Only weeks before I had revisited how we came together and how - even at the young age of 22 - I had this incredible need to take care of her. I was able to tell her all about that again - it is one of God's great blessings he gave to me that she was reminded of that - even though I knew she knew. I only wished I could have filled in the other gaps when others did not reach out to her but people can only be depended upon for so much. Everyone is busy and relationships aren't on the priority list on a day-by-day basis. When she slept it gave me peace. Peace because for those moments she wasn't contending with anything. I always prayed that each breath would give her strength. Even though towards the end that was not the case - each breath at the end was like a knife in my heart. I was with her when God gave her peace...gave her comfort. His gift to me was complete. He now had her spirit like I always told her. Jesus always spoke of the dead as asleep. Biblically that is the case and state of death despite what Christian culture has turned it into. The fact is that death is the end. It not just a separation with another who still has a consciousness - otherwise it wouldn't be death. Now that she is asleep - I find comfort in that fact. Comfort that she is at rest - awaiting that day when we meet Jesus in the clouds and become like him (1 Thessalonians 4:16). Now I pray that God will comfort me from the loss of such a great gift. A gift I am eternally grateful for and hope that in God's eyes I was a good steward of all that she was. I know He will bring comfort. I only pray that it is tomorrow.

Written Friday, August 23, 2019 / Day 11 / Evening My logical side had a plan...It was Monday - the next Monday - it was to be my first week home at night after sleeping at my son's the previous week. So it seemed logical to me - start the process of notifying all those that need to be notified. Seemed like a plan - it would keep me busy and give me a direction. There was only one problem - I couldn't do it. I would cope for a while and then the circle of thought would strike me. She's gone. She's not here. I want my life back. It wasn't perfect and it was certainly stressful and frustrating on many levels - but it was the life I had and now it was gone. Forever. The finality is the issue. I don't think I'm angry at God. Our beliefs are so strong that we knew what was ahead - we just didn't know when. And God had decided. We had a miracle in 2015 - clearly something beyond us reached out and an impossible situation was changed. We prayed it would happen again. It didn't. So here I am now. Alone. My confidant, my partner, my everything no longer here to be all those things and more. I get the idea that this will change - not be that intense, whatever the change will be - the fact is that whenever I am faced with what has been lost - it is too much for me to continue. God decided. And here I am. I don't know much - but what I do know is that everything will be different in the future. It has to be - right now I absolutely cannot comprehend doing any of the things we did together - without her with me. And that was everything. This is going to be difficult. I just sob at times thinking about her. I don't regret much - She knows how I felt about her. In fact just a few weeks earlier I had told her the thought process I had gone through when we first got together. It wasn't perfect - we weren't perfect - but I had bonded with her - all the love I had wanted to share my entire life needed somewhere to go - but that love had nowhere to go until we got together. I had never had "a girl" or even the attraction to anyone - and had not been the recipient of love from anyone I cared about. I was able to tell her those deepest thoughts once again. Now that gives me such peace and comfort - before I break down into a bowl of jello because she is no longer here. I cry and beseech God to help this transition be bearable. I know He will but for the moment it is not. Today (Friday, 8/23) it was not. Yesterday (Thursday, 8/22) it was. Yesterday I had to pick up the vacation insurance form the doctor needed to fill out for my son's cancelled vacation. I had sent it over to the Palliative Care Group that had been so helpful to us over these past four years. The Director and the nurse I was dealing with are so sweet. When I went to pick up the form, it was around noon and the doctor just “happened” to be in the office that day. I was also gifting them the Inogen replacement filters we had bought thinking that the oxygen would have made a difference at the time. Ultimately it would not have helped. My wife would have wanted them to have the filters to help someone else. So I put a bow on the box and took it with me. So unexpectedly the doctor takes me back to talk. How could I have planned to talk with one of the most caring doctors we had ever met? I couldn't but God could. She proceeded to tell me that my wife had made such an impression on her that she would never be the same. And that she had witnessed God's presence thought her. Wow. Incredible. What a legacy. I just want her back though. We talked for quite a while (to me) and she mentioned future things, counseling, meeting a person in my situation - but not now of course. How caring and I'm not even her patient. Then off to lunch at a nearby restaurant my wife and I had previously been at in their Williamsburg location. Imagine - me by myself having the chicken salad sandwich (which is what we had). I had my iPad so I texted her dearest friend who had been with us at the end and my son. I was just like a millennial - eating in the cool trendy environment - and strangely upbeat. It was to be that kind of day. It was so upbeat that it took me back a bit that it was so normal. But today was the return trip. I didn't have my sweetie pie. Went to dinner with my son which was a help. Although my heart wasn't really in it. My heart is in pieces right now. I asked God to hold me and give me comfort. Back home, I will have my tea and look at the mail that has come. Kind words from so many. I will write each one a return response. I sit at the table now with the tea and snacks and look at the mail. One of the new things. And I replaced those temporary curtains in the living area I have been putting up for 12 years. We never found a solution for the issue - so I bought some grey paper shades. Not the best solution but better than those sad curtain panels. One small thing. And then to try to rest.

Written Saturday, October 12, 2019 / Day 61 / Afternoon In the strangeness that is my life I find myself at 61 days since my entry into the world of grief. I tried an experiment last night - the timing is somewhat curious to me. I had settled the guest room and thought that I should try sleeping in there. Perhaps this might make sleep a little less of a struggle than it has been. So I tried it. There was still a struggle so I am not sure if it was a good move. I’ll try it a few more nights and see. Then, Tuesday I will be leaving for my week in Buffalo with Mom and Jim and those I had called to inform them of my trip. I also did something new - I signed up for a video streaming conference. It is held by a man I had encountered who seems to just look at the Bible itself and let the information take him to its logical conclusion. This may not seem so important to you but as the analyst that I am - it is constantly frustrating the way I am presented Christian information that does not seem to be grounded in the Bible. Joann and I studied for 24 years on our own - apart from any organization, denomination or other authority telling us what we should believe. The Bible takes you to some interesting places if you let it and we were our own partners in those studies. Now with my partner sleeping - it is interesting that I was led to this. The presentations have been compelling. For me, this type of study strengthens my faith. One presentation on the scriptural background that teaches us that we are God’s representatives touched me in an unexpected way. She would have appreciated it greatly and it made me have an unexpected breakdown. But such is life at the moment. At least this is helping me not focus on this day and what it means. The surreal atmosphere of my life continues. The combinations of normal and totally not normal are a constant. Amidst the sorrows and tears have been new insights in many areas. Based on the writing support group that just concluded its four session program - I am resolved to write Joann’s story. It has been on my mind as I have written parts of our past in these various essays. Now, I need to write her entire story. My Granddaughters need to know their Grandmother the way I know her. So that will give me a mission in that area. Today, my ability to care is right where it has been from what I can perceive. I am in this neutral place where I will not allow any pressure to enter. I will not be pushed - mainly because I can’t be pushed. Not that anyone is trying. I was looking for something and thought I would pull some items out in the search. Bad idea. There were artifacts of the past in there. I put them all back for the time being. Apparently I am not strong enough for that exposure right now. And those notes I wrote about in “The Best of You” - I have not been able to pull them out and use them as I’d like. Someday I will - apparently now is not that time. So I will gear up for the upcoming trip. All the primary things are packed, mail has been stopped. It’s just the last few items that remain. Driving to Buffalo was easier in that we just brought everything we needed or thought we might need. Flying means I can’t take all that many extra items. Grief continues to press me. I am free yet trapped. Calm yet heavy with the weight of the moment. Thankful for the way I am being provided for - yet empty in that this hole in my life longs to be filled with the beauty and love that has been lost. So onward we go. The trip will stir up some things but I am praying to also receive strength through God’s love that He will provide as I press on.

Written Friday, October 11, 2019 / Day 60 / Afternoon Today is the 60th day in the new state of grief. It has been an emotional week. I was mentioning last night at the last of the “Coping with Grief through writing” class - that I am the least capable person to be able to evaluate how I am really doing. I seem to be getting along at an operational level. Emotionally it is a total unknown. On my way to do several things today I made some small yet I’m thinking significant changes. I had all of the correspondence about my wife along with all the materials from the funeral home on the dining room table. The dining room has become my war room right now as I struggle to get things together both the household mechanics, finances and the new computer and all that goes along with it. I was arranging some other papers and then I grabbed all of the correspondence and took it off the table and placed all of it along with their storage pouch on to the floor next to the server. One small thing perhaps. Then I was cleaning up from lunch and thought I need to write a shopping list for when I get back from the Buffalo trip on the 22nd. My wife’s purse was on the counter as it has been since I brought it home on August 12th. She would have been bothered with it on the counter since it is always resting on the floor and she was always quite alert to germs and contaminating things. I looked at the purse and thought - how long are you going to leave it on the counter? I had taken the cash and credit cards out but all of her other things were still in it. I paused for a moment and then remembered she would always hang it off the open right desk drawer next to her chair when we got home. So I moved it there. I was not prepared for my response. I cried like a baby. Whatever touched me about this struck me at the depths of my emotions at an overwhelming level. It seemed like the right thing to do. But I think I touched a monument. It had been sitting there for 60 days. A reminder of the day that placed it there. And every day for 60 days - a monument to that time - the beginning of my world of grief. So to change its location apparently cut across a wide range of emotions. Cut in a way I could not predict the effect. Well, it was quite dramatic. And yet when I got it to its place - a place where it regularly was kept in our pre-grief life - there seemed to be a settling effect. Who knows what it means. Two monuments to the current state of grief changed their locations on the 60th day. As the over-active Systems Analyst I can not help but see a pattern there. But I see patterns all the time - it’s the way I look at life. But today the pattern was ever so much more significant. Only time will tell what will happen to those relocated monuments or how many other monuments to my past and current life will emerge in the future. Now there’s the couch and her pillows and throw she covered herself as we watched TV. Or the small stacks of Bibles and note books on the kitchen table. Right now - these are going to remain monuments to my sweetie. Their day may come. But for now they will remain as monuments to my love for her and sadness that she is no longer here to enjoy them.

Written Wednesday, October 9, 2019 / Day 58 / Wee Hours of the Night In my grief experience there seem to be two tracks of life. One is where I am able to reasonably function “normally” - or how I remember operating in my pre-grief life. That’s my task-driven “administrative life” of obligations. The other side is where everything is somewhat awkward and unsettled. It is the side of my life that is uncontrollable despite the general pattern I am living in. Within the uncontrollable side I just am not sleeping well. Sleeping in the pattern of my pre-grief life. Not that the pattern of that time was any real treat either. My wife would have issues sleeping, getting comfortable and as we all face being older - more bathroom encounters than we’d like to have. So sleeping was not always a treat. Many times I would have to flee to the couch from where she was having her sleep issues and I could provide no comfort to her. So sleep in general has not been a great thing for quite a while. But now - despite the fact I’m trying to maintain a general pattern as I did before - it’s just not working out all that well. Just a few hours in - there I am - up. Not able to wind down. And then the worst part of the unsettledness - thinking. Thinking is the worst thing you can do when you are trying to sleep. Now I get it - my subconscious right now is a battlefield where titanic emotional upheavals are taking place. Emotions all over the place. The future an unknown - the present in suspended animation and the past littered with memory traps that inflict emotional outbursts of dramatic proportions. So how could I even dream of sleeping? If I could dream! I plan of trying to tire myself a bit more. I brought the exercise machine in the house and am working on getting into an exercise routine - especially on the days where I do not get out on my administrative tasks. And - I have to consider changing my schedule. I may just stay up a bit later - maybe QVC can put me to sleep! Lack of sleep is really a potential problem since once you are tired - you start to have all other kinds of problems. So I’ll try to be creative and go with the flow. I did not sleep well last night but when I did - I slept in until mid-morning. I’ll just have to take it as it comes. Take a nap, sleep in, stay up late. Just like everything in my life right now - there are no answers. And knowledge is not helpful in that regard. It is one day at a time. And that’s how it will be for the time being.

Written Tuesday, October 8, 2019 / Day 57 / Morning Along with the confusion of being in the state of grief there is a profound sense of not knowing who you are. Relationships change us over time. The best ones will change us for the better. We know what happens with the defective ones. The mechanics of that are the same in both cases. We are molded by our relationships and in a greater sense our environment. To me values really matter. I am reminded of a consulting assignment I had in IT many years ago. The company was being sold by its larger parent to a smaller niche company who had hired a group of oriental staff to run the IT functions. As we started to work with the group we encountered a curious mindset. Everything that we tried to do to help was viewed as a threat. 99% of our encounters were confrontational - even when the topics were just structural or information-based. It was quite disarming. They seemed to want to achieve understanding the systems without our knowledge even though that was not possible without our knowledge. We wanted to help - but we were consistently faced with battles, conflicts and distrust. So when my consulting contract was coming to an end another curious thing happened. We were offered to continue to support the spun-off company’s IT along with this outsourced foreign IT staff. I had to talk to the head of their group. In consulting one of the main rules is to get along with the client - even if they are (in your view) weird or difficult to work with. Mainly because the contract is a short time frame and the problems will end when the contract completes its term. So I went in to speak to the manager - I did not follow any of my consulting rules of engagement. I really told him off. I said I could not work with them. I said I didn’t believe in how they approached tasks and our objectives, how they were always fighting us and that I could never in my heart continue such a relationship under those conditions. Our values apparently clash and I refuse to continue the relationship on any terms. I was shaking when I left because I had never told the client off like that - ever. Just telling him off went against the values I had - and ironically the conflict was about working values. As I returned to my consulting company’s office that night one of the managers came out and was scratching his head, “What did you tell [the person’s name]?”. I proceeded to tell him what I did. His reply, “Well I don’t know what you told him - but he wants you for another three months!”. Amazing - what sense does that make? Apparently my heartfelt, raw emotions impressed the manager - even though what I was saying was that I could not work for him. Values are respected. You have values, whatever yours are - because they are a part of your very being. In grief I am finding - those values are being attacked consistently. Because you are the sum total of all of your values and relationships. In my world - at the core of values is my dear sweetie. She is wrapped around my very thought process. What I do on a daily basis has her signature on every task. The things that need to be done have her connected with them. The plans for the future are based on our shared dreams and plans. So to have that part of my very being taken away - is totally devastating. My struggles now are to navigate this new life I don’t want right at the moment with new values. Values that I also do not want because in those new values there will be a missing element. The most important element of all. Her. The repercussions of loss - the biggest one I can gather at this point - is the total transformation of your values - the values that were part of your shared relationship. Depending upon how deep that relationship was - the impact is immense. I think of dog owners - and how close they become to their pets. How could they not - they are in constant contact. Dogs are designed to connect to their surroundings and make them theirs - and as the owner who feeds and cares for them finds - that bond only intensifies. Plus the dog is always accepting - even when it is mistreated - in human terms we would call that unconditional love. How can we not bond with that? So it is not surprising that the death of a dog is extremely traumatic. How could it not be? The dog was a very part of you - part of your values - an intimate relationship. In human terms then - the closer, deeper and more involved our relationship and values are to the one we have lost - is the primary reason we are so profoundly disoriented and confused. We can not - I can not - process life right now because life happens with her at every level. And yet I am to progress. The unseen cultural perspective is to “move on”, “get over it”, etc. To those on the outer rings of grief - they just see a broken situation that will repair itself at some point so the person will be functioning just like they are. They do not feel the loss as intensely. They do not have the problem of “moving on”. They have “moved on” in their lives - they went back to their life and values. We cannot because all the parts of our lives are no longer there. I will help them as I can - instruct them as they interact with me - explain the world of grief as I am led to do that. But for us - we will continue to struggle. It reminds me of the home improvement show where a Realtor is trying to pitch a home where there are obvious flaws that they are trying to minimize. Their comment usually is, “Oh, that’s an easy fix!.” Well on HGTV that might be true - as well as to those casual observers of our grief - but to those of us here living with grief - that is simply not the case. It is not an easy fix in any sense of the word. Although those outside might want us to acknowledge that new things will have to happen in our lives at some point - for us we just don’t want them right now. We do not want to appear difficult - like we do not want to leave this state we are in. But in the big picture - the loss will always be with us and because of that we will always struggle at some level. Struggle with those values of the past - as they meet the new values of the future. This is not something you can orchestrate, direct or influence directly. You have to live from todays values to tomorrows values. It is a difficult trip - actually I hope some day that it will only be difficult instead of impossible as it seems today. I am confident that the situation will change even though I then make the counter-intuitive statement that I do not want anything to change. But it will. It just takes time. And love. Don’t try to help us, teach us or help us “move on”. Just love us. Hug us. Cry with us. Then your values will help us as we contend with the struggle we now face.

Written Monday, October 7, 2019 / Day 56 / Late Evening As I flounder from day to day - I marvel at now being alone. When I think of it - this is the first time in my 68 years on earth that I am totally alone at home. When we are growing up in our family - they are all around us - even if they are in another part of the house. It’s like having a cat - you may not see the cat - but you know its around somewhere. Being with the family is something like that - you may be by yourself for the moment but you are not totally by yourself. Well now I am. And I don’t like it one bit. It’s a quandary for sure because how does that change? A new wife? Well let me look that up on Amazon! That’s unthinkable - there is no way to replace the deep companionship and connections I had with my dear sweetie. The dialogs, the history we had - all that we had experienced together - good and bad - all that now gone. God said in Genesis 2:18 - “It is not good for man to be alone…” - seems like we weren’t made to be totally alone - I see that pretty clearly. I do not want to be alone. Although in our broken world - individualism is the rule - a trophy - a way of life. I realize that I never really appreciated how many people are living their lives by themselves. Not only in general but when I think of so many of the friends and acquaintances we have known in our lives. There really are a lot of people on their own. Everyone makes the best of it. Reality demands it. But after tasting the life of sharing - it is quite distasteful to now be in this solitary place. My background is that of an only child - but as I mentioned - the family was still there. Now I am an only child once more. This is going to be difficult. I looked back to our beginnings tonight as I was having an unanticipated breakdown as I was trying to get to bed. That time 47 years ago I was helping my dear sweetie move into her new apartment. I have written in previous essays about the situation so I will not rewrite that information here. Only to say she was experiencing the most emotionally stressful and traumatic times of her life. Unprecedented changes had been taking place in her life - and they were intense and unnerving at the deepest levels. I had finished helping her move the last items into her new apartment. She was in a very weak and emotional state. I was overwhelmed with compassion for her situation. We did have plans and ideas for how we thought the next steps should be. But at this point - her fragile state touched me in a way nothing had ever touched me in my life before. I told her that I could not leave her. I thought - I am going to go home and sit there while she is here in this most awful emotional state in this most overwhelming time in her life? I am seriously going to do that? Perhaps I should have at one level. But this amazing new love that had been manifesting itself for her spoke to me and said no. And do you know what it actually was saying? It just struck me tonight as I was in the depths of my grief for her loss now. I told her I was not going to leave her - alone. Because that is what I would have done to her. I would be leaving her to be alone at the absolute worst time of her life. I could not accept that. So I told her I was not going to leave her. So I went home and told my parents the situation and came back to her. And I never left her. Never left her alone. Never for 47 years. The irony now is that I am alone. So knowing God knows all things - I told Him this story. And I asked Him for His help. Help I know He will provide. How? I have no idea. But what I do know is that He will take care of me. It’s not right for man to be alone. I know He knows. And I know He will help me. In His time.