Bob my neighbor is in his 80s,
on garbage day I get his cans
from the street,
walk them up the driveway
between his house and mine.
I pass the window in the room
where I sat with my love
as she departed this earth—
and I see her soul fly
out of that window
white and wraith-like
as it did that night in November
when temporal love became eternal.
Many who read these words
will give me that look,
you know the one,
they know better
say it’s just my imagination,
and they will be right—
except it’s so much more to me
personally
and that makes it true.
John A. Bayerl, March 5, 2012
Last week for one brief moment, as I lay in the hospital waiting for a doctor to push a fiber optic wire through my arteries into my heart, I suddenly realized that there is a certain amount of risk involved when someone pokes around in your heart with a wire. And I thought, "gee, maybe I'll see Gwen again, sooner than I thought." When it was all over, the doctor informed me that I can expect to live a long healthy life, unless of course I get run over by a truck. The point is, there is no fear of death when someone who made your life complete is dead. That changes everything; as life becomes less of a commodity to be treasured and more of an opportunity to do whatever it is that one is able to do to make it matter as it mattered that Gwen lived and enriched my life beyond anything I might have expected.
It's a sunny Monday in March, Dear, the kind of day when we would have enjoyed a walk around the neighborhood or even Gallup Park. As Bruce Springsteen said: "If I should fall behind; wait for me." And I know you are waiting.
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