I forgot to tell you about Father's homily yesterday. It was the other matching bookend to your funeral - a celebration of resurrection. As I listened to it I felt like a cloud was lifting off of me, like the period of time between the funeral and that homily were bracketed off. And it seems that something did change in me. I miss you just as much. But I'm not nearly as sorry to be alive as I was before.
Part of it seems to be that I've realized there are people here that love me, and people that I matter to. (Other than Kathy - I'd hate for her to have to train yet another assistant. Jen would be much better off financially without me, with credit life on the mortgage and with my life insurance.) When I express surprise that people love me, Jen makes faces and tells me to stop acting like you. I laugh and tell her, fat chance. You and I always did share a tendency toward self-loathing. One thing that was so good between us was than we knew we were loved by each other - and still are.
So it seems that if I matter to people here, then there is purpose for me. And after all, if I survived not breathing for 5 minutes and being decorticate when they got to me, it is clearly an act of God. I'd assumed that I needed to survive to be here for you; and since you're not here anymore, there is no need for me. But maybe there is a life for me yet.
I do hope this makes some sense to you - you usually understand me better than I do. Anyway, I feel much better. I'm not ready to look at the future yet, but I think one day I will be. Right now, at least, I'm okay with waking up alive in the morning. And that is good.
Love you so much - thank you for your prayers.
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