Hunter continues...

How does one process life’s tragedies, everyday events, days of unmeasurable joy or sadness? 

How does one process the physical illnesses, disabilities, dilemmas? 

How does one make sense of what life throws at us? And regardless of what your theology of God might be, life does throw a fast ball at us -  at lightning speed sometimes. Too fast to catch – not enough time to duck.

We’ve all been there.

I’ve tried to do this by writing about what is happening to me and how I have reacted to it. And I’ve been told I should share with more than what Facebook will do. And so I probably will, if I can find the discipline to do it. But in the meantime…

I know I am not alone in my feelings of grief, sadness, aloneness, fear, anger, wonder; even joy at times - and sometimes even gratitude.

The joy and gratitude have to be intentional - a pointed focus – unlike the grief that overwhelms, often at a nanosecond – without warning.

I started to write an intro to the blog that I’ve kept these 13 months – and reread what I had written.  And my heart often dropped to my knees. Tears at abeyance, but the heaviness of sadness overwhelming…

Reliving those days is not what I need right now, although I’m not sure what is needed right now.

Closure? That isn’t realistic.  I don’t think I will ever really close that chapter of my life… the book might get turned over now and then, pages splayed open,  but closed? No. It is who I am now. A Vicki without her Glenn.  Like Yogi without Boo.  

A spouse without …

But, as Hunter is so ready to tell me…

“ We have a van, now you know – MY VAN.. or so you tell me…”

“yes, Hunter, I know – and yes, we will…”

I have even purchased all the stuff that is necessary to outfit Hunter’s van….. ..so we are ready, when the time comes.  And it will.

“I’ve told you before, Human, I can still smell him, even now… a bit faint, but still there…  your Human is still with us…”

“that’s good to know, Hunter, I’m counting on you to keep reminding me…”

 “Oh, I will, don’t you worry… my nose is the best…”

“Hunter, you are so smart…”

Hunter is so smart...

There are times, even days, when all is well…….. taking Hunter to the park only to find it closed due to flooding, but then ICE CREAM… whoa – that’s good  - and yes I had some too.

Watching the rain from the front porch – out of harms way – gentle wet – fresh smell - just being …

Worship on Sunday morning and the community…

A phone call, an invitation, a lunch here and there…

A book that I can actually get into… 

Clean sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the bathroom…

The smell of freshly cut grass – thank you Jack…

Hunter obviously waiting for something to drop on the floor. 

Hummingbirds at the feeders – his favorite…

A wren making her nest in the basket at the front door…

And there are others… days and moments of ok, almost good, even joy.

And there are the not so good moments…

Three doctors – ‘you need a hip replacement…’

Three doctors – ‘ there is nothing we can do for your back issues until it gets much much worse…’ In other words – suck it up buttercup…and deal with it.

Sooo…..

Eating a dinner – alone -  mash of leftovers ‘cuz I don’t want to cook – or order out…

Another night of ‘ok , now what do I do with myself…’

The depressing nightly news

The quiet – even with Hunter it is too quiet most times…

‘hey Human…’
‘Yes Hunter…’
‘If you are so bored, why aren’t we outa here? You can drive my van, ya know…’
‘yes , I know, Hunter, you don’t have your license  yet anyway… but you have to be patient, I’m still working… I told you that … but we will as soon as I am able… we’ll go visit Yahzi – remember her?
‘you bet I do…  she liked me!’
‘yes she did, and she wants to see you again…but she is kinda young for you…’
‘don’t worry, we can still be friends…’
‘so we will, just as soon as we are able … I want to visit with her human too…’

And maybe that is what I need to deal with the ennui that overcomes me at times… road trips around the country to reconnect with old friends…

And maybe that is what I need – to reconnect with friends that Glenn and I had back in the day – those friends scattered across the landscape…

Friends that were there – that knew us – that lived life with us – that shared joys and sorrows - that are grieving still… for what was and is no more.

Maybe there will be more healing in that journey……….

I certainly hope so.  And so does Hunter……….

‘Hunter, you are so smart…’

reflections

Plane  Tree along the Canal Briere outside of Paris 

I’ve started to put my thoughts on paper several times over the past few days – and each time I walk away from the keyboard frustrated.  Nothing seems to make sense once I see the words in print.

But I’ve been thinking – and watching the world around me - and I wonder.

I hung a basket by the front door weeks ago, fully expecting to put flowers in it – but the itinerant wren had a different idea.  And so now the front door is off limits, the babies need their sleep, you know.  And Mom has to feed them in something resembling privacy. Tonight Mom was hopping all over the place, a bit of something dangling from her mouth – and I think Dad was there as well - it is Father’s Day after all.  I think the babes are well taken care of as long as I stay away. Life does march on no matter what.

And I wonder…..

The hummingbirds: Mom and Dad still come to the feeder, but never at the same time.  Glenn loved to watch them feed – and would stop whatever he was doing, especially the dishes!, to watch. Life does march on no matter what.

This afternoon I presided over communion for the camp counselors at LOMC – part of their weekly worship before plunging headlong into the weeks activities with the various campers. And I was struck by their youthful exuberance – singing, participating in the devotion, catching up with each other about who knows what. But most of all – their faces as they lined up to receive the bread and wine. Smiles – hands open in receiving – joy shining bright. They were orderly – respectful – not just of me, but the sacrament.  It was a holy moment. Life does march on no matter what.

And I wonder…

I preached this morning – and talked briefly about the ‘tsunami of grace” that God bestows (not my idea – I ‘borrowed’ it.) in this kingdom that is God’s promise. I invited the congregation to intentionally see where God was in their daily lives – in spite of how easy it is to see where we think God is not. And I struggle with this too…Are you there God? Why are you so silent sometimes?

But there is Grace – I felt it this weekend as several people came up to me, with words of grace, remembering where I was last year at this time.  I didn’t realize how hard it would be to be there at our synods annual assembly - until I got there. It was all I could do not to turn tail and go home. I’m glad I stayed, but I’m also wishing I hadn’t.  Too much raw emotion is not good for my physical body.

And I am becoming convinced that the stress of this past year is, in large part, the reason for my arthritis issues. My mobility was much better even a year ago – hips and back and knees cry out – ‘just go sit down already!’

And I listen to the news – and I wonder – is the world angry? Is nature/creation angry?  It seems so... … wild fires, volcanoes, floods, heat waves, children torn from their parents, wars raging relentlessly with no one seemingly willing to talk – and prayers don’t cut it. School shootings, the LBGTQ ‘issue’, #MeToo, the race ‘issue’ (in quotes ‘cuz it’s complicated), unethical governmental leadership….yada yada yada...

The world is angry – and I’m not sure why – nor what to do about it.

And I get angry too -  But I wonder…

Last weekend the family gathered in Wisconsin for a final goodbye (well, not really, there never is a FINAL goodbye - it’s a lifelong process.) And it was good. A chartered boat for just us – no rain – not too hot – a leisurely trip to the confluence of the Mississippi and Wisconsin Rivers.  It is what he wanted – he loved rivers – to sit beside them – to be on them in canoe or kayak or boat. To wonder – about the lives of those it feeds -where it goes – to watch the barges filled to the brim with just a single tug pushing them to their destination……. Life does march on no matter what.

And I wonder – if what family and I have done is sufficient - acceptable – sacred enough.

And I do wonder. And I reflect.  And I remember. And I try to plan for the future, whatever that might be.

“Hey Human…”….”yes Hunter?”
“You know that blue van that you said was mine?”
“yes, of course… it’s sitting the driveway…”
“Well, if it’s mine how come I’m not in it more often?”
“ well, I still have work to do, but that will end at some point...”
“And then what?”
“then we’ll hit the road and go visit people and places…”
“Soon? I want to be on the move… I’m a Border Collie, after all… we don’t like to sit still…at least not for very long…”
“I know Hunter, just as soon as we can we will be on the road – you and me in the Hunter Mobile…”
“Well, hurry up, I haven’t got all day, ya know…”
“I’m doing my best, Dude…”

And I guess that sums it up – I’m doing my best -  right wrong or indifferent – its’ the best I know how to do.

But I do wonder.

365 days later

This was the beginning of my first post:

July 3, 2017

 At 5:08 today it has been 3 weeks – 3 weeks of blur – poignant memories, mail I didn’t ask for  -  and fear.

And now 365 days later……….

I can still recall the sounds: his rasping breathing on the bathroom floor, and then the and lack of them, then the smells, and the images burned on my brain: the breathing tube manually pumped by a nurse, his closed eyes, body still….the helicopter nurses and  pilot readying him for transport, the quiet busyness of the nursing team tending to him… 

the look on the doctors face as he explains the situation… and what I must do… or not. And yet he looks like he is just sleeping…

The emotional energy of my family and two dear friends as we gather to hear what the doctor has to say… and then the matter of fact discussion about donating his organs… which was his wish.

 And so of course I did what he wanted… how could I not?

The memories are intentional recalls now… usually… sometimes they push their way to the front of my awareness, but not very often these days. I can bring them up like stuff from the basement. Put away, but not forgotten. But even then, somewhat hazy, like a Vaseline focus, not sharp: dream like? Kinda.

And now 365 days later……

It has been a blur – and yet not. This year has gone both quickly and at a snail’s pace. Some things are buried in the recesses of my mind, but they are intentional recalls now – usually – sometimes they push their way to the front of my awareness, but not very often these days.

And yet some things stand out in bas relief – friends and family with texts and snail mail, let’s go eat… I can just be there if you want…I’m praying for you … you are in my thoughts today… books and cards sent to me – maybe this will help…

Today - a box of roses from Glenn’s brother with a note –“Glenn is always with us.”

Yes he is. Always. With. Us. Always, as are all of our loved one who are no longer physically with us…. And they are legion.

An offer from a friend – ‘I can be there with you if don’t want to be alone on THAT day…”

This past weekend I gathered with family and Glenn’s closest friend to lay him to rest. 

I packed his ashes in a biodegradable paper urn in the shape of a turtle (he had a thing for turtles!) and set it adrift where the Mississippi and the Wisconsin Rivers converge.

 It was his wish. Rose petals floating on the water, marking the path and descent…laid to rest where he wanted to be. The owner/Captain of the boat was amazing… It didn’t take long for him to figure out what we were up to and help  make it sacred. And it was so. A sacred time. And it was healing.

The Mississippi and the Wisconsin Rivers converge.

He loved rivers – loved to sit by them and watch the world go by – loved to be on them in his/our canoe.  Where are the barges going? What’s in them? What are the stories of the people of the river? Real Samuel Clements moments.  Rivers – not stagnant - always moving. Going where?  It didn’t matter.  There was something magical about just sitting and watching the river flow by…………and for a guy who was not always very relaxed – this was huge.

And so we would often sit by the side of a river and just watch. And just be.

And it was good.

And it is good.

I can smile now in a way that I couldn’t before…

The hummingbirds at the feeder – his favorites…

Hunter after a squirrel… or the UPS truck… or the mail carrier…because he LIKES them!

The smell of rain as I sit in ‘his’ porch chair

The student recipients of his scholarship at Sauk Valley Community College

The campers who will use the new canoe gear at LOMC

The recipients of his lungs and kidneys – 4 people will live because of him

Memories that come unbidden of trips taken, moments shared at home, meals prepared, quiet and not so quiet conversations about nothing…planning for the next day, week, trip, life, etc., sharing our lives

A few months ago I thought I had made a significant turn around – but NOOOO it was a 180…but this time I think I’ve turned a significant corner…..

Because I am now grateful:

for family and friends that aren’t afraid to speak, to remember, to say his name

for work to keep me busy

for quiet time to reflect and remember and grieve and mourn My Way (cue Blue Eyes! Aka Sinatra)

for Hunter Dude and his unfailing devotion

for waking up vertical (most of the time!)

for sunsets and the occasional sunrise

for the ability to travel to see friends

for the memories of a journey shared

for the 38 years that we had together with its ups and downs. But mostly ups

for his support, whether he agreed with my choices or not

for his love -  no matter whether I deserved it or not

for his love – for me as I was

for the tears that cleanse my soul

As someone much wiser than me said – ‘ all marriages will end – either in divorce or death…’ So if there is anything to top the list of ‘grateful for’, it is this…… 38 + years of love, companionship, friendship, partnership: a life built together.

His ashes scattered in the  Rock River

It has been 365 days of more emotion than one human can endure – and yet I have. As do many before me and all of those who will come after me. 

I know the tears will always be there in the shadows, the sadness will never go away, the emptiness will always be a part of me. I know dozens of men and women who have traveled this path ahead of me, and I mourn with them. Saying goodbye and laying to rest a beloved spouse/partner is the hardest thing we will ever do.

I know, without a doubt, that he would want me to live to my fullest, whatever and how ever I decide to do that.

And I will. Me and Hunter. If for no other reason than to honor what we had together.

Amen

Hunter......

    

“Hey Human…?”

“Yes, Hunter...” as he gets in my face at the most inopportune moment, and then licks it…)

“You seem distracted lately… we haven’t had many walks…”

“Well, Hunter, for one it’s been too hot – (but you have been out in the yard…) for me and you…but I’ve been thinking… reflecting actually on the day that is to come…”            

“and what is that, Human…?”

“Well, in few days it will have been one year that Glenn died, June 12^th actually.  And the weekend before that, the family is gathering in Wisconsin to scatter his ashes as he wanted me to do….”

“Oh…  I guess I don’t know what that is all about… it’s not a dog thing is it?”…”

“No Hunter, it is not… it’s a human thing that we sometimes do.  When someone dies, instead of burying them in the ground like a bone, their ashes are scattered somewhere.  And Glenn wanted his ashes scattered in the Mississippi River… ‘cuz he really liked rivers… they were always moving and going somewhere.  We  would often just sit and watch the river go by …it didn’t matter which one… and wonder what was ahead and where it was going, especially when there were barges linked together like a chain, just slowly moving along…kinda like life..”

“Oh – I get it, kinda like when I just sit on the deck and watch what the neighborhood is all about – and bark hello whenever someone goes by - or a squirrel – or even just the wind…”

‘yes, Hunter, kinda like that.”

And so I reflect – as I have done these last few days – and I suppose I will in the days to come.  It makes work a struggle, day to day care taking a struggle.

When I went away last week I stopped the grandfather clock at 5:08 – the time of his last breath.

‘Why?’… you might ask…and I don’t really know… it just seemed like the thing to do.  It is still set there.

 And I reflect on the past year soon to be on June 12, at 5:08 PM.

I know I’ve come a long way, baby… I’m not so focused on what I don’t have… but  not quite focused enough on what I do have. Somewhere in between. And yet, it still seems unreal – that land of make believe – not a fairy tale – but more like a Grimm’s tale… maybe it is that in between thin place… where we meet God…maybe.

And yet – when I think of what I have accomplished – I am amazed. Small things – his water fountain is working, the grass gets mowed, the water softener got fixed, getting the toilet fixed, putting out all of the summer ‘stuff’…and the usual day to day things that need to be taken care of. Most of his clothes given to a good cause, but many still in the closet, the taxes got figured and paid.  But his workbench is still as it was -  his ties still on the closet door. His bathrobe still hanging in the bathroom. The books he was reading and his Bible still on his nightstand.   I can only do so much. I don’t want erase what was. 

The scholarship in his name – his organ recipients, (not my doing but his), Vespa …will be buried in the backyard with Rocky.  It’s probably a good thing he didn’t have to do this one… saying goodbye would have been so hard for him…he often said so. She was his sweetie.

Done.

I know this is not unique to me – I often think of all the people I know – both personally and peripherally – that have had a spouse/significant other die and I think about how they coped … or not.

And I know I am not alone – and yet I am.

But I have noticed a shift – I’m not so quick to think about what I don’t have anymore – but not quite ready to only think about the future.

 And yet I know must.

Glenn was my white knight – in many ways he rescued me – but lovingly – and with regard to who I was and what I could become.  He never prevented me from exploring myself, even if meant spending money he didn’t think we had.  He had my back – always. 

Because he loved me for who I was – and who I could become – on my own – but with his support. And I did the same for him.

While there were many sparring matches - (we were both rather pig headed…!!) we worked it out.  Together, always together.  For 38 years together. Back to back facing the world. Together.

And I have to remember that he still has my back -  albeit long distance.

So - where do I go from here?

One of the things I’ve decided to do, Hunter doesn’t know this yet, it to visit all of my/his friends around the country. And that will take me from Virginia to Wisconsin, Arizona to California, to Arkansas. Probably not one trip – but several – me and Hunter. And the new Hunter mobile. (Yes, Hunter has his own van now, and he loves it.)

And I have to give credit where credit is due. Someone I know, who has been through this himself, suggested that I write about my experiences/feelings, etc.,  a journal of sorts – because it helped him see his progress.  And so I did and do. And he is right. I can see progress. In spite of myself.  Confession is good for the soul…… right?

And Hunter and I have adjusted – he had issues, you know. But he has been my salvation (I know, it is supposed to be Jesus, but really it has been Hunter).

And he (Hunter, not Jesus) will have more to say about this journey – but for now – a tour of the backyard and a bark to his  world is enough…….

And for me? A glass of wine to celebrate.

pulling, digging, yanking

This is the 100^th blog that I have written – not all have been posted for a myriad of reasons, including the one I started yesterday.

I was reading a book by Cynthia Hale - one of the preachers at the Festival of Homiletics, about the power of women. The power that we don’t often acknowledge or even know we have. By the end of the page I had to stop -  it was going nowhere.  I didn’t finish the book either - skimmed it really - a bit to Pentecostal and fundamental for my taste - but it got me thinking (and I guess that’s the point, right?).

This afternoon I went out to close the windows on my car and I got distracted (there’s a surprise!) and started pulling the ground cover out of the flower bed in front of the porch. Had I known how much it would take over I never would have planted it…

Pulling, digging, yanking, get behind me Satan…. It is good for the soul, but not for the back.

But I made progress.  I had been thinking for a while that this stuff needed to go – it took over – and just about squeezed out the stuff I really wanted.

Done  - gone  - into the burn pile.

There is something refreshing about getting angry -  and using it to get something done.  And so I did.

This isn’t exactly the kind of power Reverend Hale was talking about, but it worked for me today.

Pulling, digging, yanking, get behind me Satan.

Have I been angry? Probably. Don’t know at whom - or what. But still………I think the anger is there… buried. It’s not ‘ladylike’ to be visibly angry… well, tough shit. I am.

Angry that my life changed without my consent.

Angry that I have to figure out how to put new batteries in the thermostat or the smoke detector.

Angry that I eat dinner alone – most of the time.

Angry that I have to rely on others to do what Glenn would have done.

Angry that when I come home from a trip there is no one to welcome me home or talk to about it. He always made a big deal of my coming home – no matter where I went or how many days I’d been gone.

Angry because life is often unfair.

Angry that my body is a frickin’ train wreck… joints don’t want to work as they should… and it’s gotten worse in the last 11 months… coincidence? Doubtful.  The unity of body mind and spirit…run amok …I know enough psychology to know that our emotions effect our bodies… fear, anger, grief are physical too. 

On the surface everything looks just fine - but just like that iceberg, 90% of it is underwater………..

Put your trust in the Lord they say…………He will see you through…………….

Well, you’re right, She is seeing me through.  But is God as angry as I am at the injustice of it all?

I certainly hope so.

And yet…………there must be hope in me somewhere…

The planters are now full of flowers.

I planted a new Hosta garden…15 new plants ….

The birds of the air get fed…

Hunter gets fed and even walked when it’s not too hot….

Plans made for trips in the near and distant future….

I make the bed and dust away Hunters dust bunnies…

Dishes get washed and even put away…

Etc., Etc., Etc.,

And all of this on top of and underneath and alongside of a kaleidoscope of feelings and emotions that I can’t even name as I get closer to….…the anniversary of That Day.

Pulling, digging, yanking, get behind me Satan…. It is good for the soul, but not for the back

broken nuts...

I’m home now after being at a preaching conference for Christian leaders/pastors in our nation’s capital – how ironic.…

Sitting on the deck – Hunter is at my feet – REALLY glad to see me after a week at the kennel with Aunt Sandy.

And I’m thinking – trying to make sense of the past week.

And I notice the tree across the street. And then all of them – and they are legion.

free image 

Still… the leaves are still… and silent…every once in a while a few move as if to a beat only they can hear. No wind to speak of…quiet…still… as if before a storm… but none is predicted… as if that matters.

The past week has been one of those weeks where it feels like my hardened heart has been broken open. Think pistachio nut, succumbing to the power of teeth cracking it open.  Think coconut succumbing to the force of a machete. Cracked open and laid bare.

That’s how I feel.

The speakers and the worship services brought me to tears more often than not…powerful words, heartfelt emotions spewed out for the world to feel,  to embrace. The topic for the week – preaching and politics. Speaking of the need for justice.  Jesus as the political voice that we as preachers are to emulate. Politics in the pulpit? Of course. 

And these thoughts like hot lava flow through my mind and body.  Justice means getting off our asses and doing something – right wrong or indifferent – but do something.   Be Jesus for those who need him the most.

Look for hopeful …the positive… not just the broken and what seems impossible to mend or heal.

And yet – underlying all of this is my own brokenness…

How can I do what Jesus might be asking of me when I can’t even make sense of my own world?

How can I be there for the other when I still need for the world to be there for me?

How can I be open to giving when my hands and heart are clenched tight in grief –  yes  - even after all these many weeks…11 months of weeks and then some.

How can I be there for the other when I don’t even know who I am any more?

How can I even be when I don’t know what that means.

How can  I care about justice when I feel that life has dealt me an unjust blow.

How indeed.

I bought a book – 3 actually – even though I told myself not to – I already have more than I can read. (especially given my lack of concentration these days).  But I did anyway. When God Interrupts…Finding New Life through Unwanted Change,. by M. Craig Barnes. He talks about abandonment in all of its various forms – death – illness -  losses of all sorts.  Life changes that we didn’t ask for, feeling abandoned by God, family, you name it. I haven’t finished it yet, so I don’t know what his final point might be, but it occurred to me – yup – that sorta hits the nail on the head. Unwanted change.

Feeling Abandoned - Feeling Angry – Life is Not Fair – Life is Unjust.  Yup. Hunter probably thinks life in the kennel for a week is unfair, unjust and he may have felt abandoned. ( Although he didn't say so in so many words, but at least he wasn't angry!) But here is my rational – at least I came back for him and brought home home…..(and there are those who might say that God brought Glenn home and will me too someday, but I’m not there yet…)

I know Glenn did not ‘leave me’ intentionally – that’s absurd. I know deep in my heart that given a choice he would not have.  But leave me he did. And I think deep down inside I’m angry… I’m just not sure at whom.

But something broke open this week… I’m not sure what just yet.

I feel broken open like that coconut after a well placed blow by the machete… coconut milk pouring out everywhere… sweet sticky milk…life giving milk…everywhere… poured out on the ground… semen wasted… a sacrilege. Life blood… pooling at my feet……… 

And yet the world is still.  Like the legions of trees. As if God were holding her breath. Waiting.  

roller coasters and birthdays

Somewhere along Hwy. 1 in California.

Once upon a time… I loved roller coasters.  The scary thrill of having your heart in your mouth and your stomach at your feet.  Truly a real thrill. I have pictures of Glenn and I and friends at Kings Island in Ohio having the times of our lives….we were young… in love with our respective partners… the world was our oyster, so to speak.  It was marvelous. Not a care in the world, (well there was, even then, but we didn’t care).

Fast forward to real life… marriage, great memories of time together, as only friends can do, but yet disappointments for the four of us in various ways, deaths of family and friends long the way …life happens you know.

We all got older.

On the side of the canal Briere in France

And I stopped loving roller coasters.  The fear was too great… wisdom? I don’t think so, maybe the fear of death…. I don’t know, but I stopped loving roller coasters.

And so I stopped going on them.

But that didn’t stop ‘them’ from pulling and pushing me kicking and screaming on the roller coaster of life.

I still don’t love roller coasters.  But I have no choice …life is like that… ups and downs… too fast most of the time…scary…with your heart in your mouth and your stomach at your feet.

 Like now… like the last 11 months.

Onalaska, Wisconsin

May 16th, tomorrow,  will have been Glenn’s 67^th birthday.

The past few days have been the roller coaster that I didn’t choose to be on… and the gatekeeper won’t let me off.

Case I point… another extended family member died last week… and it brought back the flood of emotions from that day. 

Case in point… I’m having chronic back issues…not life threatening, but significant. Yesterday was yet another treatment …and I lost it.  Because there was no one at home to help me deal with it.   Well, Hunter, of course…… and he does his best, but still….

Case in point… evenings are a bitch… that time when we have a meal together and talk about our respective days, good, bad and indifferent. Or even just be silent together.

Walking with the Cheetahs in Zambia.  He was very apprehensive

Case in point… I had a scare with Hunter… a cancerous tumor, successfully removed and he is fine, but still.  Hunter... not you too……………..

But then there is this… I did manage to get his water fountain in working order and, at least as of today, it is still functioning as it should.

The hummingbird feeder is a flurry of activity and he loved watching them.

The French Lilac tree is about to bloom… that was his.

There are several recipients of the scholarship that was set up in his name…

A picnic somewhere 

There were 4 recipients of organs that he donated that have insured life for those in need.

But it is a roller coaster… and I want off.

But I am also wise enough to know that it will never happen.  The memories of what we did together do help, we had a full life.  And yet at times that makes it worse because there will be no more of those memories.  The story is over. The film has been stashed in the vault. Done.

Relaxing in Oanalaska, Wisconsin

But I do the best I can to honor his memory…I bought a van for Hunter and me - road trips in the future…for places he and I wanted to go. I keep asking Hunter... ‘what should we be doing, where do you want to go?...’  But  

all I get is warm brown eyes looking up at me as if I have the answer.   Maybe a snug is all he needs.

His ashes will be scattered in a turtle shaped biodegradable urn in the Mississippi River (don’t tell the authorities!) in a few weeks. He had a thing for turtles, too.

I will attempt to live the life he would have wanted for me. (easier said than done sometimes). Once I know what that is.

Table Mountain, South Africa, 2016

But nonetheless… it is a roller coaster of immense proportions. The tallest… the one with the most swoops…the descents are devastating, the ups pure heaven… but still the scariest… I have never been so scared in all my life… even now …11 months later.

And yet … I still put one foot in front of another and keep on keepin’ on. And some would ask, as do I … where is God in all of this?

Is God the gatekeeper? The designer of the roller coaster?  The risk manager? The insurance company?

Maybe one of these days, the roller coaster gatekeeper will tell me.

But, still, I do not like roller coasters.

May 2017, Our  last photo together.  He died 3 week later.