"The gifts that relative strangers can bestow on us are among the best." A friend, also a relative stranger, left that remark on my blog yesterday. The simple truth contained in the comment conceals a deep wisdom that those who grieve the loss of a loved one know well. It is always the seemingly unimportant events, reminders, memories, sounds, sights, tastes, smells, touches that evoke deeply-held memories and feelings of gratitude.
This morning, for me, it was when I completed wrapping a gift for a gathering I will attend this evening. As I complimented myself on a job well done, I experienced a gnawing sense that something was missing. A bow! There has to be a bow on the package. Even when Gwen and I would squash wrapped presents into the car in preparation for the long trip north at Christmas, she insisted that there be a bow on each package. No matter that it would be a flat piece of ribbon when we arrived in Birch Creek or Gaastra, it was the thought that counted. I'm sure I grumbled while dashing to the CVS to buy their last package of bows on Christmas Eve. Such a small matter in the scheme of things. Today, I would drive all around town to find just the right package of bows that would make Christmas complete for the love of my life.
You'll be at my side this evening, Dear, at the gathering of friends from the old neighborhood. I can't call it a party; I'm not in the mood for a party. I'll be dressed in black and gray, but the gift for the exchange will have a pretty red bow on it; in honor of you.
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