A friend of mine recently commiserated with me about how those of us who grieve encounter periods of time like the one I am currently in when the occasions to be sad and melancholy seem to multiply. First there was Mother's Day, then my Birthday, then our wedding anniversary, and Sunday, June 12 will mark seven months since Gwen died.
And then, of course, it's another Friday, bringing with it those complicated feelings of sadness as I recall Gwen's death on a Friday night along with sweet, loving memories of all those Friday night reunions with my perfect partner. It was that way too when I played golf with a friend this morning; I so wanted Gwen to be there with me, yet find something like satisfaction in what feels like an almost forbidden longing for joyous times that are no more. That probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me.
Today I came across a video of a camping trip we took with our friends the Gerichs twenty years ago. We pitched our tents on a bluff overlooking Lake Arbutus No. 4 in northwestern Lower Michigan, and had the time of our lives. I am always hesitant about reliving those old memories, but in this case I was so glad I did. Seeing Gwen full of life, happy and clowning around once again validated the miracle of our love. And, just hearing her voice. . .O. K., so I cried a little too.
Tomorrow I have an all-day training session for my work as a volunteer at UM football games this fall. Then, in the evening I get to attend Brooke's dance recital. Should be a good day. Then comes Sunday, the 12th. . . We are expecting a full choir at the noon Mass, so that promises to be joyful.
I miss you a lot tonight, Dear, and, you know what, tonight I'm missing your mom; I made one of her favorite meals, perogies and ham. Wasn't much fun eating it without you here to enjoy it with me.
And then, of course, it's another Friday, bringing with it those complicated feelings of sadness as I recall Gwen's death on a Friday night along with sweet, loving memories of all those Friday night reunions with my perfect partner. It was that way too when I played golf with a friend this morning; I so wanted Gwen to be there with me, yet find something like satisfaction in what feels like an almost forbidden longing for joyous times that are no more. That probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me.
Today I came across a video of a camping trip we took with our friends the Gerichs twenty years ago. We pitched our tents on a bluff overlooking Lake Arbutus No. 4 in northwestern Lower Michigan, and had the time of our lives. I am always hesitant about reliving those old memories, but in this case I was so glad I did. Seeing Gwen full of life, happy and clowning around once again validated the miracle of our love. And, just hearing her voice. . .O. K., so I cried a little too.
Tomorrow I have an all-day training session for my work as a volunteer at UM football games this fall. Then, in the evening I get to attend Brooke's dance recital. Should be a good day. Then comes Sunday, the 12th. . . We are expecting a full choir at the noon Mass, so that promises to be joyful.
I miss you a lot tonight, Dear, and, you know what, tonight I'm missing your mom; I made one of her favorite meals, perogies and ham. Wasn't much fun eating it without you here to enjoy it with me.
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