Tonight, as my friend Dave has taught me, I asked myself how my heart is. The word that immediately popped into my mind was melancholy. Part of it is the weather, the rain is back, and it's dark and gloomy. But, hey, we have to rise above that--not so easy. Gwen is always hovering in my thoughts, feelings and everything I do. I just returned from taking a hammer back to my toolbox in the garage and was reminded of just a few short months ago when I would help Gwen out of the car and she would make her way up the steps and into the house. She never liked it, but always accepted my help of that of one of our children if they happened to be around. Such courage--I saw it then and even more now.
This afternoon I found myself wishing I had some help so that I could rearrange the furniture in the living room. I want to be able to see the hummingbirds when they come back, and the couch was blocking the view. Then I remembered that the last time that needed doing I just did it with Gwen serving as an armchair supervisor. Duh, you don't need help; just do it. As I removed the cushions on the couch and vacuumed beneath them I was reminded of the many time Gwen had enjoyed having me rub her feet with lotion as she lay on the couch. Gosh, what I wouldn't give to do that again; I never minded doing it, and she enjoyed it so much. Such a simple thing that always brought us literally in touch with each other, the only thing better was a back rub, and, as the Gestalt Psychologists like to say, "one thing leads to another. ."
It was also time to clean out the refrigerator, and I discovered a nice steak in the freezer. The last time I made myself a nice steak dinner was on Valentines' Day, and I remember thinking that it was really stupid. Tonight I didn't feel that way--just sad. Being in the reflective mood that I am in tonight has led me to think about another conversation Dave and I had about how death is full of paradoxes. By doing what I could to care for Gwen during her illness I was in a way giving her life, now that she is gone, I am writing this blog tonight, and in a sense she is giving me life. He also quoted the Greek Goddess, Alectrona, "it is she who brings life to death and death to life." A beautiful paradox indeed. Even through death love gives life.
Dear, we used to talk about how we were the last thing on each other's minds at night and the first thing on our minds in the morning. Death has done nothing to change that.
This afternoon I found myself wishing I had some help so that I could rearrange the furniture in the living room. I want to be able to see the hummingbirds when they come back, and the couch was blocking the view. Then I remembered that the last time that needed doing I just did it with Gwen serving as an armchair supervisor. Duh, you don't need help; just do it. As I removed the cushions on the couch and vacuumed beneath them I was reminded of the many time Gwen had enjoyed having me rub her feet with lotion as she lay on the couch. Gosh, what I wouldn't give to do that again; I never minded doing it, and she enjoyed it so much. Such a simple thing that always brought us literally in touch with each other, the only thing better was a back rub, and, as the Gestalt Psychologists like to say, "one thing leads to another. ."
It was also time to clean out the refrigerator, and I discovered a nice steak in the freezer. The last time I made myself a nice steak dinner was on Valentines' Day, and I remember thinking that it was really stupid. Tonight I didn't feel that way--just sad. Being in the reflective mood that I am in tonight has led me to think about another conversation Dave and I had about how death is full of paradoxes. By doing what I could to care for Gwen during her illness I was in a way giving her life, now that she is gone, I am writing this blog tonight, and in a sense she is giving me life. He also quoted the Greek Goddess, Alectrona, "it is she who brings life to death and death to life." A beautiful paradox indeed. Even through death love gives life.
Dear, we used to talk about how we were the last thing on each other's minds at night and the first thing on our minds in the morning. Death has done nothing to change that.
1 comment:
I am always perplexed how when they were with us, we thought of no one else. And now, when they are no longer with us, we continue to think of no one else. That is, they are with us always! I am blessed with moments of now thinking of others.
The sun was shining here today - and the melancholy was still there.
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