ON A BRIGHT SUNNY MORNING

Actually, this isn't a bright sunny morning.  Not yet, anyway.  I did see two robins in the yard this morning.  That must count for something.  Later this morning I'll attend the second to the last meeting of a bereavement group sponsored by Arbor Hospice.  In a way those six weeks have flown.  Many people don't find groups helpful, I do.  Gwen and I were both thankful for the support we received in three different groups we attended all during her illness.  She and I always looked forward to them, especially the ones that only met once per month; she'd get downright ornery if I ever suggested missing one of them.  The one that met weekly was our mainstay, I still have many friends we made there who continue to support me.

This goes all the way back to the third year we were married, when I attended graduate school in Portland, Oregon.  As part of the Institute I attended, those of us who were married attended groups with our spouses every week.  The spouses also got together in groups on their own on a weekly basis.  The sum of the whole is indeed greater than the sum of the parts.

This is a poem I've been working on.  It's about beginning to see a shift in how I feel about the loss of my perfect partner.  I still want her in my group, every single day, and am grateful that I had the chance to love her while I had her:

ON A BRIGHT SUNNY MORNING

On a bright, sunny morning

like this one

I lie in bed

and enjoy no longer feeling

that suddenness about everything.

I enjoy no longer breathing

air moistened by tears.

It begins to seem

a little bit possible

that I’ll be able to think

about the day ahead.

John A. Bayerl, March 7, 2011

That love we shared goes on.  Those two robins had your name on them.  The family we created, our primary group,  such a source of strength.  All of our relatives, the friends we made, such a blessed group.