Dear Jim,

It has been nearly 2 weeks since you died.  I am not even sure how that many days can have already gone past.  We talked about this day.  With your being 16 years older, it was understood between us that you would most likely be the first to pass and I would have a number of years without you.  That doesn’t make it easier.  You even told me not too many weeks ago that, “Jo, I’m going to die sometime – One of these times I faint to the floor, I’m not getting back up.”  That is exactly what happened.  I heard you hit the floor upstairs in the bathroom, where you had fainted before.  But this time was different.  This time as I reached the top of the stairs at a run, I knew – you were not breathing.  It was all so fast – 911 and EMS, a wonderful young police officer offering to take me to the ER, saying goodbye to you in the ER and returning home to realize you were gone – and it had been less than an hour ago we were just talking downstairs here.

Then I couldn’t feel.  I couldn’t think.  My psyche protected me right away by putting me in shock.  There is too much pain to have all at once.  Slowly the numbness and shock are lifting – letting in the pain just a little at a time as I can deal with it.  There is a huge hole in my day.  I miss you like crazy.

The entire financial aspect threw me in those first days – I was terrified.  Every phone call was horrible – no medical coverage past 12/31/14 – Discover Card just closed out the account without even letting me know.  But in the midst of it all, so many wonderful sweet people reaching out to me and helping me with words and wisdom.  Some of them I think you sent.  Then finally, I got the job offer letter from the company I had been talking to – the one that we waited each day to celebrate together.  I accepted the job and that evening, sat down by the fire with my dinner and glass of champagne.  That toast we were going to have together.   I think you were there – you knew I had this.  But I missed running to you to tell you when the offer came.  I missed the hug and shared happiness.

The first week, I was trying to go through your things and “take care of business” as I thought it would be expected.  It was hard.  I’m going slower now, realizing I have all the time I need to let go.  We will scatter your ashes as you requested so many times, outlining exactly where you wanted to be.  But for now, I am better having them here for a bit.  Last night I needed that – hugging the box of your ashes to my chest and letting all the love and grief encompass me.  It was like a warm energy blanket settling right into my inner being.

We met in written word, back in the new-born days of the internet – before there were browsers or pictures.  Just C: prompts and typed out words.  It is fitting that it is here, in text, that I say goodbye and journal my feelings.  It is here that I can still tell you what is in my heart.  We had an amazing 21+ years together – being together 24/7.   Something I realized soon after your passing was just how much you had taught me, brought out in me, and given me.  I cherish our time on the planet together every day and will continue to.  I love you.