A Better Day

It's amazing what a little sunshine can do.  Things look a little brighter today even though there's a sad edge to the day because it would be so much better if Gwen were here to enjoy it with me.  Today I noticed that the hyacinths are poking their heads above the ground.   I can't help but think about how much she loved them, and looked forward to seeing them bloom each year.  And, of course, there was always that thing about whether or not she would see the flowers bloom each spring.

My golf  lesson this morning was wonderful.  Dave, my instructor, is one of those teachers who teaches by sneaking up on the student.  We don't  seem to be doing much, but all of a sudden I can do things differently and better. Later I met with my memoir-writing group, an amazing bunch of people.  There was a little teasing because of the article in the newspaper, but all in good humor.  Today I read a piece I wrote about Gwen's dad, Barney, and how I was finally able to gain his approval by ,with a lot of hard work from Gwen, typing and publishing his memoirs in the form of a book. I surprised myself by crying when I remembered how good it felt when he finally accepted me as a suitable husband for his daughter.   Of course, more sad memories; they're all gone now; Gwen and her parents.  I will always stay in touch with her brother and sister.

Lately I've been much more keenly aware of how much I miss my perfect partner.   Some of it has to do with a lot of things I wish I had done better, ways I wish I had been better. One thing was dancing.  Gwen was a really good at dancing; she tried to make me a better dancer, but I was too stubborn and proud to listen.   I wrote about it:

WISH I’D  BEEN A BETTER DANCER

Wish I’d have danced better

for you,

you loved dancing so much

 were so good at it.

You saw something in me

you were willing to exchange for

smooth moves on the dance floor.

What a lucky guy.

John A. Bayerl, March 16, 2011

What I wouldn't give to have a dancing lesson with you right now.  I'm still working hard on trying to figure out how to be me without you--it's hard.