I don't have the words. . .

Today I don't have the words to describe my mood.  The closest I can come is "mellow/melancholy,"  aside from the alliteration, it describes feeling happy, safe and warm on a cool, cloudy day while simultaneously feeling terribly blue because Gwen isn't on the couch next to me, waiting to have her feet massaged.   Gwen often used the word blue to describe how she felt when we were apart.

The thermostat on the wall has a feature that displays the outside temperature.  This morning, as I prepared to mow the lawn, it read 56 degrees.  "That can't be right," I thought, "it was 96 degrees yesterday."  When I raised the garage door to take the lawn mower out, a blast of cold wind hit me, and I realized that the thermometer told the truth--its was downright chilly.  I went back inside for a sweatshirt, and thought about Anne in Dallas where the temperature has been in the 100 degree range for the past six weeks; how welcome this weather would be for her.  I found a sweatshirt to wear; it was white with roses and the famous maize and blue, winged helmet on the front along with the words, "Wolverines 1992 Rose Bowl."  It was a shirt that Gwen loved to "borrow;" I could see her wearing it, sleeves all rolled up,  as she helped me rake leaves in the fall; remember how good it made me feel to have her scent on it afterward--here come those blues again.  On the other hand, whatever would I do without these loving memories of simpler, happier times?  Memories that keep her present.

Today a dear friend, Jim, sent me a message about how he and his wife, Chris, have found themselves leading a life that is richer and fuller than before since talking with me about what it has felt like to lose Gwen.  "I can NOT imagine life without Chris and how I might wish to go on," he said, while also acknowledging that he knows that sooner or later one will be without the other.  My response is the same as it has always been, love her while you have her. 

As I was getting dressed this morning, Dear, I glanced up at your picture, the one where you are so beautiful that it still makes me weak in the knees, and, just for an instant, you winked, and then a  tear appeared in the corner of your eye.  We continue to console each other.

A John Day

It's a beautiful evening; I'm in the back yard, writing in my notebook.  It's sunny and warm, there's a cool northwest breeze.  Birds are everywhere; I've just refilled the feeder--doves, robins, grackles, red-wing blackbirds, sparrows, gold finches, a red cardinal, off in the distance an owl says he gives a hoot about this evening.  This is just about as perfect as it gets: except, you know who isn't here to enjoy it with me.  I'll never lose that sense of loss and longing.

This morning I played 18 holes of golf.  Then it was off to Macy's lunch counter for the monthly gathering of friends and neighbors from the old Forestrbrooke neighborhood. After that, nine more holes of golf.  Guess you could say it was a "be good to John" kind of day.

There are the old memories.  Forty some years ago I would have finished another day at my summer job as a handyman for Consumers Power, cleaned up, gotten into my two-tone 1958 Chevy, and headed north to Gaastra; soon to be greeted by the love of my life.  It sounds corny, but even now I can feel the excited anticipation as I looked forward to her kiss and embrace.  I don't know if that kind of story could happen anymore in the modern day of fast cars, e-mail, cell phones and text messages.

Our neighbor, Robin, just came out to water her flowers.  She's so nice.  I wish Gwen could have met her.

My thoughts take me back to eight months ago.  It was a beautiful evening like this one, late in the fall.  "I'll be waiting for you," she said when I told her I'd like to play a final round of golf before winter set in.  She asked for a little morphine, and soon drifted off to sleep.  After golf, I returned with her new favorite thing, a pineapple/mango smoothie from MacDonald's.  We shared and enjoyed it, and then, her cough got worse. . .

After all those Friday nights when she welcomed me, on that Friday night she would be welcomed to the place where she now awaits me.

 At lunch today, Dear, as is always the case with that bunch, the women sat together and talked about whatever women talk about at Macy's lunch counter, and the guys sat together and talked guy stuff.  One of the guys mentioned how much he disliked shopping with his wife.  I wanted to shout at him: "Please, ask her to go shopping with you right after lunch.  Soon enough, like me, you will give anything to have her at your side as she tries to decide which blouse looks best on her. Love her while you have her!  (On the way into the store today I saw a blouse that would have looked perfect on Gwen.  And, it was on CLEARANCE.)"  But, I didn't say anything: things don't mean anything until they mean something.

Guess I'll go in the house now.