Two Years

My Dearest Love,

It was two years ago today that you left. Seems like forever. Seems like yesterday. You have a particularly beautiful day here for your two-year deathday. I would like to think you had something to do with the arrangement.

The amphibians are singing for you. The red-winged blackbirds are pouring liquid metal music out of their beaks. There are distant sounds of lawn-mowers and voices heard as folks go about their mid-day sunday duties.

Your daughter is done with high school. You would be very proud of what she has accomplished. She won a four-year scholarship from a local community group. She has been honored by her school in recognition of her spirit and leadership. She now has to prepare for a 10-day trip to the east coast to participate in a national conference on current affairs.

Your son is growing like a weed and is becoming ever more handsome. Both he and I are eagerly awaiting his final grades to see if he will be able to drive over the summer. I am keeping my fingers crossed.

Life is a bit more exciting than I would like with all of these transitions. I am particularly anxious about the move north and all that entails. There are many times each day where I wonder if you would approve. You, of course, have other things to deal with, so I muddle along as best I can.

I have seen a bit of your sisters lately. I continue to hope that time will help heal the division that exists now. I don't have any bad wishes toward them. Trust is still something that is weak or missing, but we will see what the future holds.

I hope that all is well with you where ever you are. Down here, there are those who will visit your tree, sit on the old bench there, perhaps leave some red carnations for the enjoyment of the birds and beasts who call that place home.

With all of my love.

Your husband.