People are being nice to me again. Kathy took me out for a birthday adventure this morning - we started with a tour of Ruthmere Mansion in Elkhart and ended up at Panera. Ruthmere was wonderful. What I liked best was the 1938 kitchen; I'd take it in a heartbeat. At Panera, Matt took the time to sit down and talk to us, bless his heart. You are so loved there.
I had the chicken stew for lunch. I remember when it first came out and you brought some home for me to try. I liked being connected to your work, knowing what was going on, knowing the people you worked with. And sometimes it was helpful - I remember years ago talking Tammy through how to fix the pop machine. I loved being involved in everything that was important to you. And you wanted to know what was happening where I worked, too. It was a natural part of loving each other.
And that was one thing that made your death so hard: it was something that I couldn't share. Death is the one thing that we have to do separately. I'd hoped it wouldn't be that way - I wanted to go together. But you've gone ahead of me, and I don't know what the chicken stew tastes like there, and our calling plan doesn't reach, and I can't share any of this with you. The closer two people are, the more it hurts to be apart. And so it's worth it because being with you was wonderful.
The dog is whimpering to go to bed. And it's late and I'm not very coherent tonight. Maybe sleep will help. I love you so much - thank you for sharing things with me.