I’m living last February. In my journal. Snow is predicted. We’re supposed to get 12-15 inches by morning. The wind is howling. Makes for a blizzard. But now that I’m a retiree – well, it’s easy to take. No travel required. And I’ve been out walking. And shoveling the driveway. I refuse to buy a snow blower. I like physical activity. Exertion. I like feeling my body in motion.
And, oh, I’d love to have Jeanne with me today. The physical Jeanne. The beautiful Jeanne. The Jeanne that I could touch. And love. Body and soul. Well, I have to settle for the spiritual Jeanne. Which is good. No complaint.
Sometimes, I crave everything. I want it all. But I adjust. I take what I can get. Spiritual love. Ain’t all that bad, really. I write letters, too. To people that are alive and conscious. Kindred spirits. Existing in the flesh. That’s consolation, too. Someone alive is hearing me. Through the written word. Amazing, isn’t it? The power of words. Language. Expression. I talk to Jeanne, too. Jeanne’s spirit. I know Jeanne because I have loved Jeanne in so many, many ways. Maybe I’ll never love those same ways again. But it’s a wonder. That I did love, and that I still love Jeanne in meaningful ways. In spirit.
And in a little while, I’m going outdoors again. Into the blizzard. And as I walk, I’ll reach out my hand, like a true romantic/idealist. And I’ll grasp Jeanne’s hand. And I’ll be grateful for the moment. That feeling. That touch. That connection. Thankful that I was given the opportunity to love another human being, dear Jeanne, in this lifetime. And I’m still able to write a love letter. Like this. Professing my undying love for Jeanne. Makes me blessed, doesn’t it? –Jim Broede
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2 comments:
It is curious to me that you would choose to live in last February in your imagination. Why not imagine a February before she was terminally ill? Why not let yourself be imagining her healthy and a full partner in your marriage rather than the last days of her life.
I just wonder why.
Dear Anonymous:
You don't have to be curious any more. And I'll tell you why. Because that was me. Last February. I lifted that from my journal. About a month after Jeanne died. That's how I coped. How I grieved. By making contact with Jeanne's spirit. Isn't that wonderful? That's why I decided to share my experience/reflection/brooding from last February. With you. And with others. To share my joy. To show that there is life after death. The life of the spirit. My Jeanne is still with me. Every day. And when I die, my ashes will be mixed with Jeanne's ashes. And buried in the old Pioneer Cemetery in rural Forest Lake. And the inscription on the tombstone will be two simple words, "We loved." And I'm assuming Jeanne and I will be together. Forever. In paradise. --Jim Broede
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