Six Months Later. . .

Asa – Rio Villa on the Russian River

It’s been six months today, since my husband of 50 years left my side.  During all those years, we seldom were apart, and when we were, he was always on my mind (Cue in Willy Nelson.) The only thing that has changed is the empty hole in my heart that I try to fill with work and more work, because every minute that I’m idle, the memories come rushing back to haunt me. Not that they aren’t wonderful memories; even in the darkest times during the past almost four years, we found time to get away together; to forget for a few days that he was dying.

The cruelest blow, though, was to be given hope, only to have it snatched away. For two glorious months in January and February of 2007, he was “in remission,” with no cancer to be seen – below his neck. What we didn’t know then, was that it was lurking, growing, and multiplying in his brain. Of all the cruelties of fate that could have happened, that was the worst possible: that this vibrant, extremely intelligent, articulate man would lose not only large chunks of his memory, but his ability to speak – to say all those things that he needed to say.

I’ll try to think no more about that today. I’ll try to remember all the wonderful memories we shared. There were many of them, so many.