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April 4 (Day 2)

And so begins the rest of my life. I don’t quite know how I’m going to live that life. That’s not an “Oh my God, my life is over!” statement; just an observation that I don’t know how to live a life without Barbara in it.

For almost 40 years, she has been the center of my life. My waking moments were joyfully spent doing things with her and for her. Travel, meals, watching television, reading the news, all of those things were just excuses to be with her. She is what gave meaning to everything I do.

Now what? I don’t quite know how to decide what to do moment-by-moment without taking Barbara into account. I suppose I shall eventually acquire new habits, new bases for action, but for now I am rudderless, drifting.

Elizabeth is a great help. She gets me moving. Yesterday and today we hiked at Casper’s Wilderness Park. Got me outside and moving. I know the past few months have left her weary and distracted, too.

A Rare Happy Dream

It’s been almost 11 months, now, closing in on a year. Time to pick this blog up again.

Prompted by a dream I had last night that I don’t want to forget.

I was coming downstairs in the morning and Barbara was back. She was in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. I was surprised to see her, but not weirdly so; it was as though she’d been on a trip and had come back unexpectedly early. I was happy to see her and we hugged and kissed and then we together continued emptying the dishwasher.

That’s when I woke up. I so wanted to go back to sleep and crawl back into the dream.

Still, that’s the first genuinely happy dream I can remember having for a long, long time.

I Hate the New WordPress

Just lost a lengthy post; do know why or how to get it back. WordPress used to be a straightforward tool for posting text and pictures. Now they’ve expanded its capabilities and improved it until it broke, so it seems to me.

I’m too dispirited to try to replicate the missing post. I’ll try again tomorrow.

April 6 (Day 4): The Current

When there is a death of someone I love, I am always aware of time as a palpable flow. I want to hold onto the moment, freeze the leave-taking in place, cling to the person.

At those times, I can feel time like a river, the current dragging me irresistibly onward, farther and farther from the moment. I really can feel it physically; a soft, persistent push downstream. Suddenly, it’s an hour later, a day, soon it will be a week.

And eventually I round a bend and I can no longer see the moment clearly; I am left only with memories and a life suddenly turned grey.

April 5 (Day 3): Step by Step

Spent the day cancelling stuff: social security, car insurance, driver license. Can’t help but feel that with each cancellation, Barbara is a little more distant from this world. She continues to fade even after she has left us. I’m sitting here on hold, waiting for the TIAA folks to pick up the phone.

In cleaning up the house, I came across the little pile of clothing that was the last regular clothing she ever wore; after that she was always in her pajamas. Made me want to cry; what had been her clothing has now become relics of her life.

There should be blaring trumpets, fiery letters in the sky, upheavals in the earth to announce the passing of such a noble, brave spirit.

Instead, I fold her final outfit and place it in the laundry and continue cancelling her legal ties with the land of the living.

Step by step she leaves us even after she has left.