Love After Life

This morning I was thinking more about what I wrote about yesterday and realized that what we've accomplished here in just four months is nothing short of miraculous, every bit as miraculous as it would be for me to astral project and be able to see, hear and touch Irene again. For those of you who may not have ever experienced the kind of grief you experience after the love of your life dies (not necessarily your spouse; it could be a child, parent or someone else), that deep and profound pain is unlike anything else. For many, it ruins everything for pretty much the rest of their lives. As my friend who lost his child told me, you never experience joy again without also feeling the pain of that loss. That kind of grief carries with it an entirely different way of experiencing the world. Even when you feel good, you feel the loss and you also often feel guilty for feeling good. If you aren't thinking about your loved one for even a small time, you're heartbroken about ...

A week or so ago I moved everything of any kind of value downstairs - so I could stop air-conditioning it - since I never have a reason to go up there anymore and none of the kids ever spend the night up there There's plenty of room downstairs. I moved the stereo into my office and set it up this morning so Irene and I could listen to her country oldies at noon. I turned it on to make sure everything worked and put it on her station to see if the remote worked while I sat at my desk. After I got everything working I asked Irene to play the next song, and it was one I never heard before by Kane Brown, "What Ifs", and the chorus lyrics jumped all over me: "What if I was made for you and you were made for me, what if this is it, what if it's meant to be..."   Irene always told me that God made me just for her and that we were meant to be - she said that exactly, so many times I can't count. She even wrote it down in her journal after we met. I can alway...