Johnny, four years later

  Today is John's birthday. It is the fourth birthday that I have celebrated without him, because in my heart there is always a little celebration that he was born and lived and that he loved me. We were two oddballs, little freaks, outsiders, desperately romantic people looking for a connection and we found it. That's a miracle, because as I live and breathe now, I see so many in the world who never experience that sort of miracle. During this self-quarantine due to Covid-19, I've had a lot of time alone to reflect on the beauty that one single human being can be. And he was beautiful. Funny. Smart. Kind. His kindness made him a great favorite among so many groups of people. His work ethic, his ability to negotiate challenges, his willingness to listen.

And he listened....

This is one of the things I miss so much.

I remember the day this photo was taken. He loved his grandchildren so much and he told me personally that his deepest regret in dying was that he would not live to see them as teenagers and adults. And he meant it. 

There are some aspects and circumstances that I have yet to address concerning his death. And I suppose his "dying." But I do possess an inkling of what they are. There is no dress rehearsal for such an event and it was so tragic and painful an experience that I did not have the ability to view it from any judicious position. I had only one stance, that of trying to mitigate his suffering and I suppose my own while it was happening. There is a little lie that  caregivers tell themselves when they are caring for a loved one who is dying. It is this: "I will keep you alive, one day at a time."  I tried.

Happy Birthday, Johnny.

Sign, Still The Widow.