Hi Ken, I woke fully at 4:30 this morning, after tossing and turning most of the night again, and thought about a year ago today. At 4:30 in the morning, I was sitting at your bedside, where I’d spent the night watching over you. Maybe I was holding your hand, maybe I was whispering to you about our lives together, or crying on your chest, or worrying about our children, or feeling guilty about all the things that I didn’t do (or didn’t do very well), or silently pondering. I don’t recall the specifics, though I remember the intensity of sitting with you for your last three nights, listening to your shallow breathing and wondering why you were leaving us.

How do I acknowledge something that is a constant in our lives without giving it power over us? How do I move forward without moving on? Perhaps if I talk to you about how we ARE doing, I can reconcile myself to what we aren’t doing.

Ian is growing so much. I think he’s going to be taller than his brother. You’d be pleased to see that he’s becoming quite artistic too, just like you and his siblings. He’s still playing guitar though he won’t join the orchestra. He says he is not a performer.

Haley is ready to get back to school. She’s frustrated with her job and, I think, a little bored. You know how much she hates school; this is a big step forward. Is she asking you for guidance? I wish she would talk to me. She has always been closer to you and I think I’m very clumsy when I try to help.

Tristan is reaching his own conclusions as he always has. We’re finally able to talk about you and tell stories. Remember when I had to travel and Tristan called because you made them eat cereal for dinner? Remember when Tristan accidentally drove the riding lawnmower into the tree? Remember when you cut yourself with the saw and Haley bandaged your hand because you wouldn’t get stitches?  Remember when Haley backed the Subaru into the Mini and we joked that she managed to damage $50,000 worth of our own vehicles at one time?

While we’re talking ….

What is the zipcar password? They’re spamming your email to renew online because I canceled your credit card. Of course we’re not renewing but I’d like the email to stop.

Did you see that the furnace died? It was 21 years old and I think we have your diligence to thank for its longevity. I found your notes and called Don to help us. He tried for two days to get us parts — the house dropped to 42 degrees — before I finally gave up and bought a new one.  It’s the right choice and will help us sell the house.

Regarding the house….I found someone to refinish the floors as you told me to do.  Also, I finished the bathroom that you started — with many, many thanks to Kevin (and Ian) for all the work they did to repair the wall! The downstairs bathroom got an update too — a new vanity and new paint job. Ian and I did that together. You would have been proud. Every time I got frustrated, he was right there resolving the problems.  Diann and Brad came down twice to help us repair the closets. What a job that turned out to be! Brad said that he’d work for beer and of course I didn’t have any. Without you, why would I have any beer in the house?! So, Tristan went out and bought some!

You would not believe the stuff I’ve gotten rid of. How does it accumulate?! I shredded 10 years of tax returns, including one from 1987! And I found the marriage license! Do you remember how mad you were when we couldn’t find it? It was in the file cabinet, mis-filed with other “stuff.” I joked about the George Carlin skit with Ian and then we had to watch it on YouTube.

Rev Herndon sent me a note when he heard that you died. He invited me to the All Souls celebration. I went to it of course but I cried the entire mass and scurried out the door, tears running down my cheeks, without greeting him. It was like the whole event was designed around you — the pianist played Erik Satie as people were arriving, the same song we chose for our wedding. Then they played Chopin and Rev Herndon read the Wendell Berry poem. At the end, when the congregation grasps hands, I didn’t want to connect with anyone but the man in front of me took my hand anyway and squeezed it, while I sobbed. Thankfully, Betsy invited me to walk with her later that day and listened as I described the horror of my public grieving. What a loving friend she has been.

The Mini Cooper clutch finally died. You were right, of course, that careful handling of that stupid clutch would extend its life for a bit. I took it to Bruno’s which you told me NOT to do but Mike and Greg love you and I trust them. They built a new clutch for me instead of paying $2000 for the “official” Mini replacement clutch. I also have to confess something that I know you’d yell at me about but don’t worry, Greg scolded me on your behalf — I forgot to renew the registration for the Mini! Since we do the registration online, the state doesn’t send a paper reminder and I forgot about it. Greg also reminded me to print out the registration to avoid the $300 fine if Haley gets stopped. Done!

Remember the cancer cookbook that Bonnie lent us? I finally sent that back to Bonnie with a note. She called me to talk about you. That was hard. So was the first parent meeting at school last fall. Ian’s advisor talked to me about how Ian is handling your absence and recommended — as have Roni and Dr McElfresh and Ian’s primary doc and so many others — that we go to the Caring Place. So, we went to an open house there. We are signed up; our meetings start next month. I’m dreading a repeat of the public grieving and already cried like 7000 times when we went there, but Ian is actually looking forward to going. They did such a good job at the open house; he really connected with the volunteers.

Highmark closed your hospice at West Penn. They’re advocating hospice at home or when necessary, in-patient hospice in the hospital. You would have hated that. I can remember you talking about how the constant beeping and loud noises distressed you. It made me sad that they’ve closed it. The volunteers and nurses were just amazing, loving and helpful. Do you remember the elderly woman who played the piano? You asked me to thank her for you and she played for another half hour because you enjoyed it so much. We participated in a grieving session with the hospice team and met the priest that you liked. He came right over when we walked in and hugged me for the longest time, rocking back and forth. Perhaps he connected with you and was comforting himself as well?  We talked about your sense of humor and the questions you asked him when he visited you.

I think Mr Bingley misses you in his cat way. You were always willing to put up with his cat-nonsense more than any of us and I think he’s lonely for your attention. He sits on the cat tree and reaches out with one of those massive paws, trying to latch on to a sleeve or a shoulder. He has become very persistent in his attentions.

Speaking of cats, Salty — your mom’s cat — has some sort of neurological problem, like many elderly cats, that causes her to have really bad vertigo. She follows me around now, her beautiful grace gone but her dignity intact, and tilts her head so much that she’s basically looking at me upside down. Ian thinks she’s had a little stroke. The vet gave us vertigo pills but getting Salty to take a pill is an extraordinary production. She can’t be tricked into taking it so we wrap her in a blanket (protection against those incredible claws), strategically pop the tiny half pill into her mouth and try to make her swallow before she can spit it out. It’s exhausting but so satisfying when we succeed!

I’ve been sorting and packing (or donating) and still we have so much to do. I haven’t gone through all your clothes but I KNOW how mad you would be that they are basically going to waste. Also, I found the box of your journals but I don’t think I have the courage to read what you’ve written.

Do you know how many boxes of electrical cords I’ve sorted? FIVE. And I still haven’t figured out what they all connect to. Most annoying is the cord for the portable car battery charger. I would really love to find that one but I know I won’t find it until after I give up and buy a new one.

Ian was helping me pack some of the hundreds of books yesterday (I’m dreading moving all those books again) and he kept finding books that looked interesting. You would have sat down with him and made a big pile of books for him to read. I can remember, many years ago, I would finish a book on the bus ride home from work and you would go to the bookshelf to find another great book for me to read. Now, I find them as I’m packing and realize that I’m going to be moving all of these. Brad was teasing me and asked if there weren’t any books on those shelves that I haven’t read. There are, of course, many that I haven’t but I find myself drawn to books that you gave me many years ago: Earth Abides, Fire Starter, Microbes, Lord of Darkness, The Man Who Folded Himself, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Dandelion Wine, Kon Tiki, Blue Highways ….

I am struggling with decision-making. What if some magical event is about to happen that will undermine a decision I just made?! What if, for example, we sell the house and then I win the lottery or get a really good salary that would have covered the mortgage on our current house or …. I guess what I am saying is that I have discovered how difficult it is to do the things we really don’t want to do.

Missing you has become a part of me, like the way my knee aches when the weather is bad. Oh, how I wish you were here.

Goodnight, my dear; I will see you in my dreams.