Today at 1:30 p.m. was the three year anniversary of my husbands' death from colon cancer. I always go out with my friends for the day so that I am not here by myself brooding. This year, I spent the early afternoon with my elderly uncle and aunt in the nursing home after being with the other elderly uncle in the morning. Then, I went out for a bite with my friends Wayne and Leslie for lunch, and had diner with my father and uncle. I am finally home with my dogs and am feeling a little blue. I think I do pretty well and I don't dwell on the bad things most of the time, but I really am melancholy this year. I miss Tim so much--there is no-one I have that special connection with anymore, the one where you can just look at each other and know what you are each thinking, or finishing each others' sentences, or just being quiet alone together; nobody to put my icy feet on at night, or hold hands with, or kiss goodbye. I never dreamed that I would be a widow at 51; it just isn't possible that I will be alone for the rest of my life. The feeling of loss is so strong--it permeates my entire life. I believe I am a pretty strong person, able to survive about anything that I put my mind to, yet this feeling of loss is so all-encompassing and so powerful.

I did make a decision recently that I feel very good about. Tim was cremated and his ashes are in a beautiful hand-carved wooden box that has a Chesapeake Bay retriever on it. I have it at our home, and I had planned to keep his ashes until I died and mix them together, along with the ashes of our dogs. I am positive that Tim would want to be out in the world that he loved so much, so I am asking his friends and family to each take a small amount of ashes and spread them where he loved to hunt and fish. He will be part of the air and the earth and the sea, from the farmlands of North Dakota to the rivers of Pennsylvania and Maryland to the oceans of the Northeastern United States. He will no longer be enclosed in a box, but will be mingled in the winds and waves forevermore.