It’s rained all day, but now it’s stopped –
Wet streets soak in the little light remaining.
Silhouetted trees loom, crepuscular.
No creatures pierce the velvet silence with their sounds.
I walk and wonder, thinking that no matter my impression,
The trees and grass and soil swarm with living beings,
And the space with spirits -- jostling, watching, beaming –
Lively as an amphitheatre for a game.
It only seems that I’m alone out here – I with my dog.
Reflection:
Indeed, I feel alone these days. This month, I’m sandwiched between two first anniversaries of deeply emotional events with you: our marriage on September 11 and your death on November 5. Elections are approaching. Today, primaries were held for the elections scheduled in a month. You died on election night last year. I wonder if the confluence of the emotional peak of our wedding with the deep shock of your sudden death could explain why I’m now immersed in such a sense of grief and loss, even though, on many levels, I’ve put a life back together in the intervening year. The Jewish religion has some real wisdom in the creation of a memorial at the Yahrtzeit of a death -- at the first anniversary. What would be a life affirming memorial for me to create in your honor? I need to do some brainstorming, and ask for inspiration. What would you appreciate?
I was sitting in your office today, and something told me to look in a certain drawer. What I found was the following letter I wrote and gave you last year on our wedding day, which also marked our tenth anniversary of being together. It helps me to understand , at least a little, why my sense of loss is so keen. Rereading this letter, I see why it was so hard to imagine going on alone without you. I was right – it’s been hard, indeed.
We were together for 10 years. During that time, we worked together, lived together, learned and grew together, nurtured others together. It was an incredibly rich and intense time. We shared every minute, every project, every thought and wish. We actually became “Not Two Not One” -- a deeply unified couple. I celebrate the beauty of what we experienced during that time, and the fact that, knowing time was short because of age and illness, we savored every moment that we had.
To Ellen, Rosemary’s Wedding Thoughts, September 11, 2008
“As we get married today, I want to tell you again how much you mean to me, my Beloved.
I feel so fortunate that we found each other, and that we’ve had these years together – that we’ve loved and treasured each other despite our sometimes comic-relief differences. What a gift our relationship has been and continues to be! I could not have asked for a more wonderful gift of love in this life, couldn’t have dreamed of a more beautiful, loving, generous, insightful, intelligent bubbele with whom to share the moments and the days.
As you struggle to become large enough to contain the pain of this illness [metastatic cancer] and still experience love for yourself and for those around you, I struggle to imagine my life going on without your presence and spirit to complete it, to fill in the dark spaces and create our special shared beauty. We conjure up a unique, powerful energy together. We love, mentor, nurture, reach out, discover, welcome, and share, supporting others together in a way that brings joy to those around us and to ourselves as well. Experiencing this partnership with you and growing together has been such a beautiful gift.
You make my life happier, fuller, and more satisfying than it could ever be without you. You’re my spouse, my heart, my soul, my life."
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