1.5.2022.2

…on the first anniversary of her departure. From her loving husband Ed.

Honey,

One year ago you closed your sweet eyes for the last time. One year ago, to the minute, you stopped breathing, and crossed through the gate into Heaven, where you got the wings that you so richly deserved. One year ago, I put on your finger (near your wedding band) the 02 sat monitor that you asked me to buy from Amazon, which I had received only the day before. It showed a flat line, and I knew that you were gone. One year ago marked the end of a forty-year run for our remarkable love, a love which will overcome death and live on forever, even after my death. One year ago marked the end of my first life on Earth, the life that I spent with you, my soulmate, my love.

Six weeks ago I started my second life on Earth, with the new soulmate who was sent to me by you and God. (I think you are in cahoots.) You remember her from fourteen years ago. Her name is Sheila. She thanks you for passing me on to her, for loving and nurturing me, for teaching me how to love more fully as a husband and a father to David and Jonny, a father-in-law to Amanda and Phyllis, and a grandfather to the incomparable Ava.

Today I am sending you this missive in accordance with our long tradition of exchanging messages on our special days. I will listen throughout the day for yours. I can already see the muted sunlight of the new day, the winter sadness of the bare trees, no birds or squirrels yet but I know they will come. You continue to tease me through Sheila’s thermostat–I can hear your gentle laughter as I struggle and swear trying to adjust it. I feel your love through her dog Max, who is 120 years old but like a little baby dog in his enthusiasm and excitement. He even humped my leg last week.

Tomorrow we are flying down to Alabama to be with David, Amanda, Ava, Jonny & Phyllis. We will talk about you, and will honor you and cherish your memory. We may even watch some of your memorial (I just thought of that), especially the slideshow. I may bring down Ava’s flute and play it for you (you haven’t heard me play it in a long time).

Our love molded David and Jonny into healthy and happy young men. Our love formed the foundation of self-esteem on which they have built their adult lives. They have confidence in themselves, they believe in themselves, and they love life. They are steadfast and loving partners to their soulmates, and they love Ava. So do we.

Carol, you accomplished your two dying wishes: you didn’t die of Covid, and you spent quality time with Ava. You met her, played with her, and fed her. You lived a full life in 72 years. When the time came, you were ready to move on to whatever God had in store for you. And you have taken good care of me even after your transition.

Never forget that I love you honey. (Just saw the squirrel you sent me. Also thanks for the butterflies.) I will always see your radiant smile and feel your gentle hands. You are always in my heart and soul, and I love you beyond measure.

Have fun up there.

Ed