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11. Small Gifts


The littlest things can say the most.

Written Friday, August 30, 2019 / Day 18 / Evening


One of my problems is that I am emotional and sentimental. I am the person who attaches meaning to things and therefore has a problem parting with things.


One of the first feelings that swept over me when I came home that first night was how intense would be the emotions everything that had a connection to my wife would project to me - and that was really was everything in the house.


The weight of those moments were breath-taking. Memories were being triggered - since we had left abruptly there were things in process that remained just the way we left them. With her not being there and the chorus of things calling to me - it was overwhelming.

It was like radiation. I endured it for the first night rather tenuously and then told my son the next day that I would have to stay at his house until I could stand to enter the radiation zone again.


When I'd stop by for the mail, clothes, toiletries, etc. the radiation was still there - and everything that was associated with her took a bite out of me.


I stayed a week at my sons home and then attempted to try a night back at my home. It was tolerable so I could now sleep or at least have moments of unconsciousness that I'd hope would become sleep.


I got the idea to wash all of the bed linens and pillow cases and covers as she'd like to do - and remake the bed without some of the trappings that were hers. This did help to make it a little more neutral.


And so as the days unfold I press on through the emptiness.


My wife would always write a note in the lunches she made for me when she was making them. When she was not making the complete lunch, she'd still include a little note in the sandwich or snack bag each day - always making up some cute little comment about something relevant in our lives. I'd of course, save the note because it would make me smile and it was a part of her - I felt that way even then.


So imagine my surprise when looking through things - I found an 8x12 envelope full of these notes! I had saved them!


Now hugging the envelope I thanked God for this tiniest bit of her I could still savor amidst the emptiness that was now my life.


What an incredible blessing.


I was looking for something on her desk - she had a desk she used and took care of our finances which I am working to discover - and found her monthly planner.


It was full of occasion references and other notes. I thanked God once again that I could have this wonderful representation of her to comfort me.


The comfort in a time of grief though is sort of like an empty calorie. It seems to satisfy but there then is the awful aftertaste.


The flood of memories rush in - then the reality of the moment steps in to remind me that they are only memories.


But I'll take what I can.


I know I can't rebuild her in any way - her unique personality is no longer available.


My love for her still exists however. Wrapped into my DNA where I'm not sure it can be unraveled - nor would I ever want it to be.


I was putting something in our overflow refrigerator - a small one we have in our back hall that was always so helpful to keep extra food and supplies. And while I was moving things around - there was one of the apple sauce containers she would put in my lunch in a fold-over plastic bag...with one of her notes in it!


I cried like a baby.


Like a message in a bottle - it was a piece of her ready to connect to me.


I put it back in for a future moment when perhaps I might not be so emotional.


Like crumbs on the table after a piece of cake has been cut, these little remembrances are oh so valuable.


No Mr. Gates, I don't believe that remembrance is for sale at any price - it's value is beyond a price.


I know there won't be all that many of them - but I'll savor each one as I navigate through this dark empty place I am now residing in.

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