Friday afternoon T and I’m in for the day. I know that doesn’t make you smile but trust me, it’s a good thing for me to embrace the couch.
Last week I was racing: back from Cancun, out with the old, prep for the new, back to Shalom with a head cold, still embracing new explorations, returning home, adjusting to a new look in my familiar space,dining in Tara’s kitchen, taking a causal walk,interviewing HF teachers about our work together, driving back up 17 to celebrate Herbie at 95, then on more return home to embrace the couch!
Finally, a last serious cleaning on my updated space to bless change.
I’m thinking a lot about how I carry you with me, how I walk taller because of you,
I am accepting, I am smiling, I feeling a sweet melancholy.
I am not falling apart.
Bonnie S.
Digital Bonnie 
Last line, says the most. So many changes in such a short space of time. You are great!
There is much to celebrate in this:
I am accepting, I am smiling, I feeling a sweet melancholy.
I am not falling apart.
I am not falling apart…the best anyone can do.
My husband of 43 years died on Sept 28. (Have I already told you that?). I cannot tell you how much your letters to Tuvia help bolster me up and give me hope and strength. I have kept a journal since before he died and continuing to today. He died while we were on vacation in Maine, our 5th year to go there. He had a heart attack as we were boarding the plane to come home. The folks at Maine Medical took excellent care of him, but he had a second heart attack after six days, and they could not save him. I should say the sent him off to a greater world ahead of me, as that is our belief. My daughter and I are going back to Maine this summer to spend a few days and, perhaps, take a bit of his ashes with us. The time will be very bittersweet. He was 15 years older than I, but I just never thought of his going. I talked to his primary doctor when I got home. He said we never think our loved one is going to die, not even when they have been sick. After reading your sweet letters, I have not only been journaling, but also making part of the journal into a letter to him. I like the way you ended today’s letter…”I am accepting, I am smiling, I am feeling a sweet melancholy. I am not falling apart.” That is exactly how I feel most of the time, admitting that “falling apart” hangs in there on occasion, but not nearly as often as originally. You got new shelving, and I got a new shower and window curtains and towels for our bath. It is bright and happy, and I like it. So you, I, we walk forward, not easily, but upright, and that is a good thing. We are not falling apart! Blessings, Gloria PS… Can I do PS on an email? When did Tuvia die? It seems from your letters it must have been near the time that John died, or “passed”, as we say in the South.
Sent from my iPad
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your letters to Tuvia create a sort of online bereavement group for new widows — it feels so odd to include myself in that word — and I thank you for them. Thank you. I especially hang onto your last words: “I am accepting, I am smiling, I feeling a sweet melancholy. I am not falling apart.” I know so well that “sweet melancholy.”
It was hard to get here Sonia but welcome. It’s a group. I can trust…widows.
You have been in a whirlwind lately Bonnie, and it’s lovely to hear you’re sitting on the couch! Maybe admiring you new wall, or looking at that beautiful view you have, but not “out” this time. It’s good to read those last words, good to hear that despite Tuvia leaving, you have kept him in another way, “carried in your heart”. Enjoy the weekend welcoming spring.