He died peacefully. He died bravely. He died surrounded by love.
His death released him from a body that was a prison.
His death released him to regain the wholeness of his self.
His death tore apart my heart and soul and made something new of me.
It is not an initiation either of us sought. But since there was no escaping the ravens who came for him, we strive to do the best we can with the knife-edged gifts we were given.
Parted from me and never parted.
Never and always touching and touched.
The slow passing of the days since his death ease my pain, begin to blur the memories, and bring me steadily closer to our reunion. Between here and there, between now and what is to come, there is much for me to do. Most days I still wish on some level for that time to be short, but I no longer resent my life. I owe myself and my daughter and him and the world the best of what I have to give, the best I can be.
I believe this will be my last formal grieving post. Not because I no longer care, but because I do continue to move forward. My thanks and blessings to all my friends here who have been patient and supportive during this time. Your kindness and compassion have meant more to me than you can ever know.
And yes. . . I am crying.