"She liked me and I liked her."

 

Dear John,

   While trying to figure out the bills in your very organized cabinet, I spotted a folder that said "memories". It took me the longest time to take that out. What I was afraid of, I have no idea. What I found among cards and letters were a few pages you wrote while in Honduras in 2005.

  You were working from a memoir book and answering questions on paper. You wrote about early happy memories that included your Dad whistling for you from up the street, your brother Bob seeming to enjoy your company, sister Bernie walking with you while you dove in piles of leaves. You also mentioned your teacher, Sister Noemi, who gave you words to hang onto when you left grammar school in a fright: "It will be alright." And the day we met at 14."You wrote: "She liked me and I liked her". Yes, we did.

 In a separate sheet you spoke of being impressed with Rupert Sheldrake who was mentioned in a book about the labyrinth called "Walking A Scared Path". More than once you told me of his quote: "People should be pilgrims not tourists". I think that resonated with you because you indeed were on a pilgrimage each time you went to Central America to help God's children there.

 Well, still trying to hold onto you I went to Amazon and looked for his books. He has many and I chose "Science and Spiritual Practices". It is about the physical and mental benefits from certain activities that man has engaged in for millennia. For some reason when the book came, dark and with Queen Anne's Lace on the cover, I held it to my heart and thought: "This is your idea".

 And so it was. This book came to my hand to help me through the thicket of loss. It already has. There will be nothing new but just a nudge in the right direction.

The first two chapters were about meditation and gratitude. They were part of my life before and they will be again.  

And then I found among the cards this prayer typed on a piece of paper that must have meant much to you to be in that folder This, if said once with intent, could change a life. 

"My Lord,

I offer you my all-

whatever I possess, and more,

myself.

Detach me from the craving for 

prestige, position, wealth.

Root out of me

all trace of envy of my neighbor

who has more than I.

Release me from the vice of pride, my longing to exalt myself, and lead me to the lowest place.

May I be poor in spirit, Lord,

so that I may be rich in you."

John, you were rich in Him and I love you.

I'm glad it was me.

 Dear John,

   The panic is receding, the fear of this new landscape where I live.

I don't cry in Kroger anymore because I don't go there. No checkouts, just scans, my Irish fanny. How do you scan a cucumber? My gas is now pumped by me, how many things did you do that I never acknowledged? I am taking a pitiful amount of pride in doing these small things.

 T.J. Called, he had no idea you had left us. He said he came to America because of John Wayne and you were like him. You will be thrilled to know that his grandson is a priest. The Duke not T.J. Your old work friends are shattered.

 In your view, the kids always came first and they are doing exactly would a great Dad would expect. I know you are proud. There is nothing I need that they will not help me with.

In 1998, I had a strange dream .I walked into a room and saw that you had been knocked down by a priest. I saw the Roman collar and started yelling :"Why don't you pick him up." I had another dream once where we both were captured and the miscreants said I could go to safety but not you. There is no way I would leave you behind in that dream or ever.

This is a roundabout way of saying  that I am glad it was me left here. I am glad it is me suffering your loss.  You were a wonderful, holy man (except for the language arts) and you deserved a happy last day and smooth passage to the next place. It would kill me to think of you ever suffering and so we go on, the family and I. 

Remember singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" in June at Mass with that amazing priest in Phoenicia ? We know you are with us and we will live somehow, knowing that.

This isn't even in the same galaxy

  

 A lovely "thinking of you" card came that demonstrated in just one word how no one gets this and never will  until it is served on their plate.

 "I hope this card takes away a little of your sadness." .All was well as this long time friend described what was going on in her life. Another new church family,  living far from children,  a new exercise facility  and so on. Then the sadness remark. I sat up and cried. Sadness is when your football team loses the Super Bowl. Or your dog of 17 years has to be put down and you carry his collar around for two days. And the second is deep sadness which is why people now send cards but  that word doesn't come close to what this is. The closest is desolation. Grey, desert, cloud covered bleakness. 

The other day on Facebook someone posted that round Buddha face with closed eyes and knowing, semi-smile. The script read something like :" Attachment is the source of sorrow. Detachment is the source of peace." I wish someone had told me that before I started dating John 57 years ago and spent my whole life with him. I would have dated casually forever or if married, kept some distance. What was I thinking ?

I know this sounds petty, picking on a well meaning friend but this is the anger, frustration phase that has circled back again. It nudged out the depression for awhile. Sadness is not pounding the desk with closed fists and crying when you can't get the black ink cartridge in because you are on a deadline to get some forms copied and  into your benefits office to pay for a hospital bill. That isn't sadness, it is full blown madness.

Sodden, endless grief.

 How do you describe this? For 57 years years, even when he was not with me , he was with me. Now he is not only not with me but he is not with me. When you are inside the quiet holiness of Notre Dame and see the stained glass beauty you don't ever look out and see the grey dull buttresses holding it all up. They are not noticed but they are there.

You don't want to leave the house because you know you will come back and see once again that he is not there. You cannot imagine going to your favorite used bookstore and not see him sitting in a light colored stuffed chair patiently waiting for you to finish, reading a book he will not buy. It's all for you

Go to the lovely restaurant that you were going to go to on New Years' Eve, a tradition ?Unthinkable.

You make the mistake of rereading journals looking for him in the pages and find that each page sparkles and is lit with joy for the little things that make you happy. The green grass, the sun, birds, a tree ,turkeys, books, walks and it occurs to you that you hardly notice anything anymore.

And for the first time, you are thinking of going to bed at 6 p.m. and not eating dinner because it just doesn't matter. 

No words offered, no words given, can change what you know. The light has gone out, the TV doesn't work, frozen dinners languish, the bills with his name come, and none of it matters. I don't know when it will matter again.