The Fall

The last time I started to see the trees turning color, Bill was with me. One day last fall we decided to make the great effort to go for a drive. Getting him into the car was a difficult and somewhat dangerous process, but we always thought it was worth it for adventure's sake. The drive we went on that day was glorious. The weather perfectly warm, the trees all shades of yellow, orange and red. He was happy. I was happy. And as it happened, it turned out to be our last car ride together.

Now the trees are turning again and the memories of the last eighteen years find a way of dropping into my mind like the thousands of cottonwood leaves rustling their way to the ground under that old tree across the yard from me.

The memories always make me turn to our old photo albums, my old journals, our videos that prove we had a life together before this loss. We have all these things right here at our fingertips, but this week a great grace came to me. I was reminded in a gentle way that Bill's parents, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, his friends don't have these comforts to turn to when they start missing Bill. Not only do they feel his absence but they have to do it in that mental darkness that takes over our memory when someone has been away for awhile. We start forgetting what they look like, the shape of their faces, the expressions we once knew intimately are faded. Their voice is all but forgotten.

So it was a great grace this week to have Bill's mom call and tell me how she's missing Bill and would I gather the photo albums, the "Three Wishes" scrapbook Stella made and the DVD so she can spend some time remembering. How glad I am that she feels free to let me help her grieve. Bill, please pray for us as the leaves fall and we remember loosing you.