"You are? What will you write about?"
"About grief, about moving through this pain, about helping each other."
"Well, you both certainly know about that. I think it's wonderful."
And --- we are writing that book....
Just not writing it down yet.
Conversations written with words, silence, touch.
In person, over the phone, cards, gifts, texts, movies, fires, books, friends, walking, music, prayers and worship, struggle and contentment, laughter, tears, easy chatter and difficult talks, good food and wine, are just some of the ways we're writing this book -- just not writing it down, not yet.
Painful days on the calendar -- Yours. Mine.
Birthdays... wedding anniversaries... death anniversaries...
So painful to remember and far too painful to forget.
And when we started I remember saying, "We need to get you through the second anniversary."
I remember mine.
I wish to God I could take tomorrow's date off the calendar for you --
Of course, as much as I love you, I also wish there had never been a reason for us to meet --
Instead, you would still have yours and I'd still have mine.
But, that's dreaming for the worlds that ceased in a heartbeat for both of us
Even as we each carry their fragrance, shape, and longing deep in our hearts
We've crafted new pages with a new story
That I believe will carry us through.
So when this book is finally written down
The authors will be more than two
For we could not have come this far without the help of many:
A cloud of faithful witnesses, the owl in the tree, and the love of family and friends.
Tomorrow will come, it will go, and you will feel like a truck ran over you.
And you will sleep.
And the days that follow will be the twilight zone as the world is very upside down right now.
And in the midst of it all you're helping your best-friend, Blanchie, prepare for her final big trip.
I watch, pray, and love you with hope in my heart that you know:
You are not alone.
Never are you, nor will you be, alone.
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