What can I give him?

It's early.  Very early, I'm up before the sun as is most often the case. Oh how I used to love to wake up in the morning and see the dappled sunlight spill into the bedroom, slip across the floor and gently touch the quilt on our bed.  Dale enjoyed mornings in the forest.  His homemade pancakes were hearty with lots of pure maple syrup or his Irish oatmeal would fill our bowls and then stick to our ribs to nourish us for a morning's labor. 


I awake now before the sun.  I'm not as lonely that way.  I purposely miss the morning ritual that began each new day with us...together.


It's Dale's birthday today.

What would we be doing this morning if he were still alive? He loved spring, he loved to travel and explore and we always seemed to find a new place to discover on his birthday. We would pack our cameras and tripods, climb in the car and stop at every opportunity to photograph spring breaking through as the earth unveiled a fresh new season.


A new start...spring.  I should be exhilarated that my home finally sold, for good this time, just last Friday.  It's a relief and a milestone and it was a new start on a lovely spring day.  But the reality is that our home is gone now.  I realize it had to be, I realize it's what I wanted and I also realize that a fresh start also means saying yet another goodbye.  Goodbye old home in the forest with the view of the river and the rolling pine covered hills and the eagles soaring overhead and the deer peeking in our windows.  Thank you for the memories, for the laughter and for the sorrow that painted his last years like a watercolor wash spiraling uncontrollably over the paper; a chaos of intricate multi-colored patterns and then, voila....a painting.  I'm glad it was his last home, he loved it there.  I'm glad that the new owners will experience the spring flowers that will have popped up to welcome them.  The hyacinth, the snowdrops, the blossoming fruit trees and the budding lilacs.


Last spring I wondered how I could survive without him. So many things have happened, so many little miracles have filled my heart with proof that he still loves me and cares for me and watches out for me.


I wrote this in my journal a few weeks after he died.  I read it again before I turned out the light last night.  It's one of the sweet reminders that has given me the strength to endure the pain of loss and to relive the happy times that feel like such a precious gift to me now, this is what I wrote:

SOMEWHERE MY LOVE

“Somewhere My Love” is the theme song from the movie “Dr. Zhivago”  It was the song that was playing as we danced our first dance together on the night we met. While we were dating, Dale gave me the gift of an Italian music box that played this song.  It became “our song” and it played as we danced our first dance as husband and wife at our wedding reception.

It’s been just over 3 weeks since Dale passed away.  This morning while I was getting dressed, the music box that has been sitting on my shelf for years suddenly started to play.  It played just the first 4 notes…Somewhere My Love…  I had long since forgotten the words to the song so through my tears I came to my computer and searched for the lyrics.

 I have experienced many impressions, thoughts, and indications from Dale these last few weeks that have given me great comfort in knowing that he is still with me and taking care of me.  This message perhaps means more to me than anything because it says exactly what I know he wants me to hear and wants me to keep in my heart and naturally it is in the style of poetry that he wrote for me throughout our life together.

Somewhere my Love,

There will be songs to sing

Although the snow

Covers the hope of spring.

Somewhere a hill
Blossoms in green and gold
And there are dreams
All that your heart can hold.

Someday we'll meet again, my love.
Someday whenever the spring breaks through.

You'll come to me
Out of the long ago,
Warm as the wind,
Soft as the kiss of snow.

Till then, my sweet,
Think of me now and then.
God, speed my love
'Til you are mine again.

Each stanza touched my heart as if he were whispering the words into my ear. 


Each word a gift to me.  But what can I give him today for his birthday? 


Many years ago he wrote a poem and he would often recite this line to me:

"I've saved a place high on a hill where the morning's first rays will kiss you good day" 
 
Perhaps I'll "put on my brave" this morning and allow myself to witness the sun's first rays again.  The morning of his birthday, my little gift to him...of me being strong. A little stronger than yesterday, a lot stronger than a year ago.  I'm going to be ok.  He'd like that.

Happy Birthday, here's the sun rising on your birthday just now.  It's going to be a good day.