I wear his watch...

...on my left wrist.
I sit in his place at the kitchen table, so I don't have to look at his empty chair.
I drink coffee from his favourite cup in the morning. The cup I used to bring him in hospital, to make him feel a little bit closer to home.
I carry his wallet in my purse.
I sleep in one of his t-shirts.

Over these past weeks, whenever I went to Tim Horton's I would buy a coffee for me and a coffee for him (double-double). Back home, I'd sit under the oak tree in our backyard where I have a candle burning to light his way. I'd carry on a conversation with David while sipping my own coffee. Then I'd pour his under the tree. I just could not bring myself to buy only one coffee. I had to buy David his coffee too. Even my children when coming to visit would bring me a coffee and one for David. It became a ritual; pouring David his coffee under the tree, so he would get it wherever he is.
But now I don't need to pour his coffee under the tree. When I sip my coffee, I feel we are sipping together, as if we are one.
Am I losing my grip on reality?

Maybe..... but I feel him....close to me.
Our love is our connection. Our bond. Our bridge from one world to the next.

David loved pens. There are oodles of pens in his desk drawers. Pens sitting in a coffee mug on a shelf next to the telephone. Pens in every pocket of every jacket. Pens lying on the surface of every coffee table in our home. When David and I would go shopping (that seems light years ago now) to a stationery store like Staples, he would head straight for the pens.
"David, don't you think we have enough pens? We must have a hundred or more at home. Why are you looking at more pens?" He'd just smile and head on over to that department anyway, leaving me to pick up whatever we had initially come into the store to buy.

I am sitting in the notary's office (here in Quebec, we use notaries rather than lawyers for real estate transactions, estate management, etc.) a few days after David's passing. His son-from-out-of-town was there too. As was my financial advisor. I was asked to sign a document. Opened my purse and started rummaging inside. No pen. I knew I had one in there. I always carry a pen with me. Looking up, I noticed that everyone was looking about for their pens. Nobody could find one. Finally, the very red-faced financial advisor stepped outside to ask his secretary for a pen.

Ha - I think David had hidden everyone's pens.

Three days ago, I was down by the lake where his ashes had been scattered. It was very peaceful with sailboats on the water, cool breezes caressing my face, ducks swimming among the rushes close to shore, and blue blue skies. I walked for a bit and then sat down on a rock under a willow tree.

After a while, I headed back through the grassy field towards the road where I'd parked my car. A melody floated through my head.
....let's go down to the river to pray.....

Oh, did I come here to pray? Hmmm. Maybe I should.
The morning of David's passing, I kept hearing a voice in my head saying "call the priest." So I asked the nurse to call him. When the Father arrived, he asked me to join him in saying the Lord's prayer.

That prayer came back to me as I walked that grassy field towards the car. And when I had finished, I looked down on the ground, and saw.....
lying in the grass...
a pen!

Finding comfort in nature..

Opening to the morning light....

Reaching towards the afternoon sun...

The Natural world is full of healing if only we would notice. The shamrock (above) bloomed just a day or so ago. I didn't notice. I'd been too busy to pay attention. I had bought this plant for David just this past spring...

Before David's hospital admission, I looked out the front window to see a pair of ducks on our front lawn. There is no pond or water source nearby. It was quite a surprise. I looked up the meaning of Ducks in my Animal Speak book. Ducks bring emotional comfort and protection. I knew we were in for a rough ride.

One evening I happened to look out David's hospital window to the Healing Garden. There swimming on the pond was a pair of ducks. I never saw any more after that.

Sitting on my back deck one afternoon on one of my "days off" from the hospital, I looked up into the sky to see a hawk flying overhead. Now there are hawks in our neighbourhood, but I usually spot them towards the woods - never in my backyard.

The hawk is a "powerful bird that can awaken visionary power and lead you to your life purpose. It is the messenger bird, and wherever it shows up, pay attention. There is a message coming."

I was out walking the other morning, listening to birds as they sang and chirped. I was feeling lonely and sad. Suddenly a tiny brown bird flew down close to me. He (or she) settled on a low branch, looked at me and chirped out a greeting. I wonder.....

Three days after David's passing, I was once again sitting on my back deck. It was a beautiful day, but I was crying in grief and pain. All of a sudden, an orange and black butterfly flew down and perched on the chair next to me. I knew in my heart that it was David, telling me he was alright. I have read that when you see a butterfly, it is a Soul who has passed on coming to comfort the ones left behind.

David

My dear David slipped quietly from this world with peace and dignity yesterday, July 3, 2010. As they say in the COPD world "He is breathing easy now..."

I awoke early this morning to feel waves of love and joy emanating from David's spirit. It was such a comfort, as I thought I'd be waking up in pain.

Yes, I feel sad. Yes, there are tears, but right now I know he is flying; he is lighter, having left his painful and worn out body behind.