Tomorrow will be an anniversary date of sorts for me. It will be the 2 month anniversary from when my new friend and I met. And until today, we had only not seen each other a total of 2 days. Today was the third because I had an out of town meeting and got home too late. And in the last month of this relationship, I began noticing that I was starting to relax. Odd, you don't realize that you are so keyed up when that and worse is how you've spent the pre-death days of cancer hoping against hope, the shock period, the aftermath, the grieving, and then the real grieving, the getting worse period when you thought it couldn't be any worse. The period when you realize that you can't fight your way out. You can't positive think your way out. You can't pray your way out. And the period you realize that there is no way out. The period of being powerless. Like a drunk or any other addict, we have to hit our bottom. But we all do eventually. I don't know if that might be the point at which we begin to heal. Maybe our downward spiral in this pit of grief is like being in a damp mossy well, sliding further and further down because we can't get a grip on the slick sides. So this is the grief well. And the sides of this well is life itself. And we can't get a grip on life, so we just keep sliding farther and farther down until we, like the person with the disease of addiction, hits bottom. The bottom of the well of grief. The bad news is that we can only get out by climbing. But the good news is, you have stopped sliding. It takes us time to first get our bearings because it is like awakening from recurring nightmares. Most of the fright has gone away, but you are groggy, in a deep dark place and don't know a thing about getting out. After a time, we begin to get our bearings, and then we start thinking about climbing out. It is a climb that you have to learn along the way. Not a one of us ever had to climb out of a place like this in our entire life. But we learn how to get one foot hold at a time, and we find handholds mainly by trial and error. And little by little, we find our way, climbing a little higher for a day, sometimes longer, until we slip and start to slide down the same wet mossy grief wall that trapped us here at our bottom, and we'll be damned if we're ever going to go back to that bottom again. And so before the slide down gains momentum, we catch ourself and once again, get a grip. Keep climbing my friends. I know it's a long way until we're out, but I'm seeing a light above me now, and it looks like it's a pretty day out the top of this well. I'm almost there. The climb is easy up here near the top now, the walls are no longer slick because there is too much light for the moss to grow. And the walls are no longer wet because the sun rays have dried them up. And up here, we're no longer afraid of falling. No longer afraid of anything. No, we've been through the worst now. There is nothing worse that could ever happen to us, and we look forward to finally getting out of this deep well of grief that has had us trapped so long. No longer afraid of the unknown life that is awaiting us once we've climbed our way out of this grief well. No longer afraid of ourselves. We find ourselves empowered. We were able to do things on our own that we never dreamed possible. Part of our climb. We had to because we knew deep inside that if we didn't, there was no one here to help us. So we learned. And so we survived.

Wow. What a ramble. What a rabbit trail. What a stream of consciousness. I'm learning to write what I'm thinking. And believe me, I'm glad I find myself able to think again. There was a time when my mind literally shut down. That's not a good thing. But here I am. I find myself growing stronger day by day, empowered. Facing my triggers, my blockages, one by one, and watching them fall to the side. Yes, it is good to be able to think again. But it is better that now I can write about it. Believe me, the only way I was able to climb out of this wall of grief was to write about it. Never wrote anything personal except on cards to my wife. I never journaled, never kept a diary, never wrote about personal matters. All business. Now, that's all I knew how to do. But as I've said before, I have arisen out of my grief a different person in a lot of ways. And all for the better. Except for the death of the one person that put me into grief to begin with. No her death was not for the better. But her death bettered me as a person. It was her final lesson of love to me in a class that lasted for over 30 years. Thank you Juanita. I get it now. And I will carry on with all you taught me, and do my best to teach others. Love is life, and life is love. And yes, love is eternal.

Thoughts. I write my thoughts. Probably wiser to write my thoughts in a journal, but I can't write to myself. I don't why, but I've got to write to someone else. So lucky you's. I began this piece by sitting down to write about a calm I've noticed in myself the past month or so. I thought I would entitle this piece, The Calm. So you know, this calm came about by my being with my new girlfriend, day in, day out, nearly every evening and all weekends long. And I wanted to tell you that tomorrow I will be celebrating not only 2 months together with a wonderful woman, but also the longest relationship I've had since my wife died. Wow. Dating the same person for 2 whole months is huge for me. Really huge. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm telling you, this is a huge friggin' deal for me. Will it last? I hope so. But I've learned not to look ahead. I take it day by day, just as I learned to do in the long climb out of the grief well. This woman makes me happy. She makes sure I eat. She's a great cook. She makes sure I take my medicines. And somehow she has been able to motivate me. Most importantly, she love me and I love her. She is my today, and I hope she will be my tomorrow. And so I find myself calm, relaxed, at peace for the first time in a very long time. Odd thing was, I never could really relax before the last month. Didn't even realize how tight I was wound. I've come to a rest now. And just maybe that's why I'm able to think again. I can see the blue sky above the well now. And it is a gorgeous day. And for the first time in a very long time, I am calm. ~~~ Scottie