SHE ALWAYS LOVED ME BACK

Yesterday was another of those bittersweet days that others who are immersed in the grieving process tell me to expect.  The memoir writing group I've rejoined went well; my  recollections of asking  Gwen's dad, Casismir, a. k.. a. Barney, for her hand in marriage and receiving a perfunctory response of "no" was well received.  In the evening John, Jr.,  Amy and I celebrated Brooke's 8th birthday at a restaurant in Brighton.  It was such fun to see the delight on Brooke's face when I was able to present her with a new bicycle.  The bittersweet part is knowing and remembering how much Gwen enjoyed that sort of thing.  I wrote on Brooke's birthday card that she will always be in grandma's heart.

All in all, it was one of those days that was tinged with melancholy, and I  missed my perfect partner more than usual.  There never appears to be any rhyme or reason to this, it just happens that on certain days I have a much more pronounced awareness that someone who occupied such an important part of my life is never ever going to be with me again on this plane of existence. On days like that I find myself  often touching the urn with Gwen's ashes, a tangible proof that she's with me, but in a different way.   It's tough, a reminder, again, of  the  intense pain inherent in daring to love deeply; the kind of love Gwen and I experienced when we found ourselves by losing ourselves in each other.  When I read that last sentence it really sounds kind of corny, but that does nothing to lessen the truth of it as we lived it.  I wrote a few lines about it:

                                    

SHE ALWAYS LOVED ME BACK 

I told her often

how much I loved her.

Miracle of miracles,

she always loved me back,

even more.

Every single time.

Who is to blame me for missing her

with this ache in my heart?
Every single day.

John A. Bayerl, February 15, 2011

The ache in my heart is my best proof that our love goes on,  dear.  In ways I cannot imagine, we will someday see each other again.

Good news!  A delivery truck just arrived with a supply of baby raviolis  from Dina Mia Kitchens in Iron River--Yooper soul food.  They are just like the cappellettis that Gwen's mom, Bertha, used to make.  When I opened the box I saw a five dollar bill on top of the invoice.  The woman who prepared the shipment was able to combine it with another, and refunded half of the shipping cost.  Nowhere but in the U. P., eh.