Today was my first day in my new duties as a volunteer at the UM football game. Throughout the day I found myself with Gwen on my mind. One of the things I thought of was of how much I took her for granted when in the past she and I would attend games with friends. Today I desperately needed her to be at home waiting for me, and had to face the reality that she would not be there--there were so many things I wanted to tell her about a most interesting day that included people in the crowd of near 110,000 dropping like flies from heat exhaustion--a woman literally fell at my feet and asked me to help her. Severe thunder storms arrived late in the third quarter, and, for the first time that any people could remember, the game was ended and Michigan declared the winner, 34-10. Then I walked to a friend's home, where I had left my bicycle, intending to ride home, but a torrential rain thoroughly soaked me, and they drove me home, promising to bring my bike home tomorrow. Oh, how I wanted Gwen to be there when I walked in the door soaking wet. Throughout the day I found myself rehearsing things I would tell her when we were together.
Things don't just happen--today I only saw a few people whom I knew, but their connection to Gwen was absolute. First, there was Debbie, who facilitated the cancer survivor group that Gwen attended for so many years. Then, there was Edith, a nurse and friend of Gwen's when she worked in the OR at Kellogg Eye Center. Of course, I couldn't wait to get home and tell Gwen about it. . .
The day was not all gloom and doom. Terri and Roy went to breakfast with me before the game, and we enjoyed a nice visit as well as some fine "curb-side shopping" on the way to the restaurant. Gwen would have been embarrassed, but secretly pleased at the treasures we found. She was not one to easily allow me to blithely drive by a garage sale sign on a Saturday morning, and here was free stuff.
I'm so tired tonight, Dear, that I can barely think the next thought. A while ago I was fortunate to attend a workshop conducted by a singer/song writer named John Angotti. One of the things he said that stuck with me is: "Our primary purpose is to love. We are defined by whom and what we love--how we choose to make a difference." That's how it was with us, and that's why it's still so hard for me to forgive myself for the times I took you for granted. I am so grateful for the many times when we chose to make a difference by defining ourselves through the love we shared. . ."you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."
Things don't just happen--today I only saw a few people whom I knew, but their connection to Gwen was absolute. First, there was Debbie, who facilitated the cancer survivor group that Gwen attended for so many years. Then, there was Edith, a nurse and friend of Gwen's when she worked in the OR at Kellogg Eye Center. Of course, I couldn't wait to get home and tell Gwen about it. . .
The day was not all gloom and doom. Terri and Roy went to breakfast with me before the game, and we enjoyed a nice visit as well as some fine "curb-side shopping" on the way to the restaurant. Gwen would have been embarrassed, but secretly pleased at the treasures we found. She was not one to easily allow me to blithely drive by a garage sale sign on a Saturday morning, and here was free stuff.
I'm so tired tonight, Dear, that I can barely think the next thought. A while ago I was fortunate to attend a workshop conducted by a singer/song writer named John Angotti. One of the things he said that stuck with me is: "Our primary purpose is to love. We are defined by whom and what we love--how we choose to make a difference." That's how it was with us, and that's why it's still so hard for me to forgive myself for the times I took you for granted. I am so grateful for the many times when we chose to make a difference by defining ourselves through the love we shared. . ."you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."
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