Dan dropped by today for the first time since Anita died. I think it's been over a year since the two of them were here - she'd been too sick to visit. He and his kids and their spouses had gone early this morning to the river, not far from here.

So Phil, Dan and I sat in the living room and talked. We didn't mention Anita. Even though I've had all this training on how to talk to people about this kind of thing, training is irrelevant at times. It's kind of go by what feels right. So we talked of Mom and caring for her and my frustrations, and about what Dan has been doing. I showed him my latest painting of my husband when he was a young hunk, and a variety of other things. We are both glad he is getting out and doing things. He is taking his travel trailer to the beach this week for the first time with out her. His daughter and son-in-law will join him for a day. One of his granddaughters be there for a weekend. But other than that he will be alone.

It still seems so odd that she's gone. Odd is the operative word. One can think these things over and over, and I know in time it sets in. But there it is. Odd.

The reality of our world was different for Anita in some ways, I think. She accepted it. But her way of seeing things was old school, as a teenager during the 50s. So in many ways I am glad she doesn't have to be here with all the violence and unrest.

She is in loving place now. I'm pleased for her. And Dan will make it somehow...like we all do when we experience loss. Love of others helps.

Vi