Today marks four weeks since my Louis died.                                                                                                                                       A new anniversary...

Note: I may need to ask pardon here of those who prefer to use the gentler term “passed” rather than “died” but my current reality tells me that "my dear husband died”.  Long ago in nurse’s training  I learned  how to accompany a person dying; a reality we each will face one day.  So I, I see  a quiet victory in death…and it is most comforting.

Ah, but I digress.

Back to today's current reality. To be very clear; the decision to take up the standard of writing on Caringbridge that Louis held strongly for 15 years was a free and deliberate choice on my part. The creative challenge was looming large before me. I found it hard to resist.

One of my daughter’s cautioned me: “Mom, are you sure this is a wise thing to be doing now?” “Of course ”,  I reassured her. 

Surely, I need one more thing to do in the midst of adjusting to all the changes that do occur when a spouse dies…?  😳😉

Truth be told, I am still working at the discipline of sitting down to write every night.  [Note that I began my writing at 11 PM tonight]. I was never very good at it. When I wrote a monthly column for our Community’s publication for nearly 20 years, I consistently found fairly creative ways to avoid sitting down to write that always gave Louis a good laugh. Sometimes I really fought against "writer’s block”, but equally my challenge was simply going to my make-shift office, shutting the door, sitting down, picking  up the pencil [yes, for you younger set out there in Caringbridge land, there were NO computers, NO spell check, NO font choices, NO grammar corrections, and NO control, alt, etc ...] and armed only with a messy pink eraser -  began to write, write and rewrite, often through the night!

[Hmmm…somethings don’t change…sigh].

Today was a quiet day. Although I did have a routine annual doctor appointment at the University of Minnesota Health clinics, even that event was pleasant enough. The dear young nursing assistant doing the initial screening started to cry when I told her that my husband had just died this month; I comforted her and reassured her I was fine. My doctor, too, was  sympathetic and offered some excellent words of wisdom to put into practice as I adjust to this new life without my husband.

The last brief interaction I had at the office was opening the door for a sweet spirited young woman in a wheelchair who was leaving at the same time. We got into a short but earnest conversation about shoes: she inquired about the Hoka brand I was wearing. All the while I was pierced to the heart with her beautiful smile. There was no self pity or sadness  in her demeanor; only joy and a brightness coming from her face that was most striking. 

That beautiful unassuming woman made my day. Gratitude for life, even a life filled with limitations did not prevent her from reaching out to me, blessing me through her presence.

I leave you with a few verses of a familiar poem by John Donne:

Death be not proud, though some have called thee                                                                                                               Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so…                                                                                                                                         One short sleep past, we wake eternally                                                                                                                                            And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Remember to pray for all those suffering grief and loss and all those who have asked for prayers, especially our dear older friend, Wynona who is back in the hospital with more health issues.

Nancy