November 3, 2007 Yesterday Lynn, Michael and I drove up to spend the day with Jeff and Vanessa. Today is the three month mark since we lost John. I still remember (and prefer) the times when John and I counted from the 17th of each month to the next one, remembering our first meeting, not our last farewell. I woke up this morning at 3 and couldn't go back to sleep. Many memories and thoughts and tears. As he would have said, Crap.

This picture is of the big snow storm we had early in 2004. It hit just as John and I were driving back from Leavenworth, where we had spent our first New Year's Eve. This morning I was reading his entry from that day in our shared journal. It was a time of firsts for us and we were beginning to amaze ourselves with thoughts of possibly getting married, if we could work out the logistics. In my neighboring entry, I referred to some of the big questions we both had: What if health took a hit for either one of us? How would our families take to the idea of "us?" What if we really didn't know each other well enough yet? Were we rushing into something unwisely? What if? What if. Neither of us could have imagined the truly huge whatif that was looming ahead. What if we fell more and more in love each day? What if the worst possible thing happened and it brought us closer together? What if we shouldn't have spent one second worrying about whatifs, but instead spent every second as if there would be few enough to count and just simply loved each other with all we had? Luckily, we did that, too. As I reread that journal, the last entry of which I wrote in the middle of the night on my last birthday, watching over John as he slept in his ICU bed, strapped into that Hannibal Lector mask to help him breathe, I have a little of  the perspective that comes with time having passed, almost as if I'm reading someone else's writing. I'm struck by the joy and kindness, the patience and the deep respect we expressed to each other in each exchange. But mostly, I guess, by the sense of overriding generosity and care for the other that existed between us. There really wasn't a sense of having to protect what was "mine" for either of us, whether it be time or possession or boundaries or right to a differing opinion. There was a feeling of safe harbor for each of us and it seemed that the more we gave, the less we held back and protected, the more of everything there was for both of us. Seeing Jeff and Vanessa together and noticing the many sweet little ways in which they show their caring for each other reminded me of those happy times with John, as did riding home with Michael and overhearing one end of his conversation with Mo, the gentle concern in his voice over her cold and how she was feeling. Not every woman gets to be loved so generously by her man. Seeing so much of John in his boys makes me proud of him and them.

November 4, 2007 Well, my three months are up. The three months John "gave me" to get over him and on with my life. I spent the afternoon raking leaves and cleaning out our vegetable garden, however I don't  think that counts. Fall is so beautiful here, but it makes me sad this year. Or perhaps it's because I'm already sad. He was right about one thing, though. It's time to face up to reality. Winter is coming. And there are some things I do need to get over. John is just not one of them.

November 12, 2007 My friends from Hazeldale School, Suebee, Julia, Beth, and Sarah, came over this weekend for a "slumber party" which has been a blast!  We took about a 4 mile walk at the Lewisville Park, and sat up till 2 am by the fire, talking and laughing. The conversation covered untold topics of varying depth and hilarity. Oh, and did I mention there was food? We had three kinds of fondue, including chocolate! It is still great fun, as some are still asleep, one is meditating, and I am watching the rain pound down outside John's office window. Click here to see some photos of the fun.