Yesterday was another hard one. Loneliness felt a lifetime long. Maybe the transition of one daughter leaving and the other possibly not coming, leaves me feeling alone.

Still. Quiet. Like my life is stuck in this vortex of longterm grief.

Without end.

Maybe it was the first inspirational talk I gave since Bill’s death. Usually I finish adrenaline-filled, until the high takes a downturn with a nap. Not at all how I anticipated the moment to go, when at the onset, tears betrayed any sense of calm.

Exhaustion filled, I made my way home, and to bed.

Tears and disappointment transitioned to nodding off.

Remembrance entered in.

Usually memories are from our last years together, current as current can be, like a week-old paper. But these weren’t current affairs, but early times together. At the beginning–first time we snuggled – made love – made dinner.

Firsts.

Remembering when I’d listen for hours in the backdrop of his business calls–equations and words unfamiliar to my vocabulary. I felt as if I hit the lottery, married to the smartest man on the planet.

I was in awe of him.

I fell asleep somewhere around this time, when, I am not sure it is me assuring myself, or assurances from God, but I hear,

He loves you too.

He, this man I miss so much, loves me too.

The man I can’t make my way to–a love note passed from beyond the physical realm, straight to my heart.

He loves you too.

…

I wake to an image of a book. Hard cover. Black. I can’t see the title, or the topic. I think for the briefest of seconds that it is a book of maps, as I hear another phrase enter in,

Who knows where the journey will take you.

I just don’t know.

Maybe I do.

I want new.

I want a new dream home.

I don’t wan’t to miss him as much as I do.

I don’t want to let go though.

Afraid when I do, the connection will drift away into the sunset, or above, as Patrick Swayze did in ‘Ghost’ at the end of the movie.

…

I went to look at houses today. Building plans sit on the kitchen table. I’ve narrowed it down to one–a small space compared to where I’m at now.

Cozy.

Maybe perfect.

Maybe I’ll actually move forward, as I’ve quietly looked at homes in the dim hours for months, as if waiting for permission…

…

Hours later, I placed a deposit on a tiny lot that is likely to lose most of her trees once building begins. Even so, I am excited beyond belief that I am not panicking at this first step forward.