Another Week.

I won't mince words here.  There's really no need.  I miss Bill.  Every.  Single.  Day.  I had a sweet memory of him today though.  I was driving through downtown Salem this afternoon and I remembered how I used to work at the Euphoria Chocolate Co. located in the mall.  I always worked Sundays from 11:00 til 6:00. Most weeks Bill would stop by for a visit (and chocolate!) on his way back to Monmouth.  Starting about 5:00 I would anticipate seeing him walk down the escalator outside the shop window.  I was so happy to see him when he got there.  He always said I smelled good after work, which I suppose I did, it being a chocolate shop and all.  Sweet memory.  I talked with a friend this week who, unfortunately, understands my world all too well.  She wisely told me to become the "keeper of the memories" either by writing them down or by telling them enough times that they won't be forgotten.  Wise words, indeed.

There were some difficult events I had to muddle through this past week.  Jack's first baseball game was the hardest one.  Bill should have been there.  I also had to give the final approval for Bill's memorial stone. Should I say it's beautiful?  That he would like it?  I don't really know what I should say.

Rather than sinking into this pit of despair and grief that waits so quietly in the margins of my life, I'm trying awfully hard to find the spots of joy and bits of grace that could be otherwise overlooked. I'm looking, really I am.

I had the most lovely visit with a new friend.  Someone who inspires me and who I believe can teach me a thing or two.  I believe the Lord plopped this friend right into my lap. From all the way across the state, this friend brought with her the kindness and love of a whole group of amazing ladies, all of whom welcomed me into their lives with love.  They have left me speechless with gratitude.

Baseball.  The beginning of this favorite time of year for us.  I have spent so much time at the ball field, first as Bill's groupie then as a parent.  Actually, that's not entirely true.  Even before there was Bill, I was at the ballpark watching my brothers' games.  When it's baseball season, you know it because the evening light becomes a different color, the air is scented with spring flowers and grass, and the sky is all dark and blue and cloudy at the same time.  So many years I have spent watching ball.  Its familiarity brings me both comfort and sorrow this year.

A visit with an old friend.  This old friend knew and loved Bill.  He understood Bill.  He was around before Bill and I were married.  Heck, he was a part of our wedding!  So many happy memories with this friend.  Bill liked everyone, but he didn't always respect or admire everyone.  He admired and respected his Gilly. What I wouldn't give to relive just one night spent at "Rio's" playing video poker, feeding money into the jukebox, and drinking cheap beer.  This time I promise not to ask silly questions of the knife-wielding convict.

The generosity of a neighbor.  One who remembered a conversation he had with Bill last summer about his desire to learn bee keeping and who provided me with a bee hive to honor Bill's memory.  You mean you don't remember people with bees?  Maybe that's what's wrong with the world.  Bill would love having a memorial hive.    

Family gatherings where everyone, save for my eldest niece, was present. Bill would have thought this gathering contained too many Jacobys in one place.  He's probably right.  His presence was felt, but his absence was felt more.

Beach trips, baseball road trips, visits and meals with neighbors and friends and family, and generosity that continues to humble me.  These things fill my days and for that I am thankful.  Bill would also be so thankful to everyone who has provided us some offering of support and love.  Thank you to all who have just come, without invitation or expectation, and walked alongside us for a stretch on this damn road.