It’s been 10 months since my husband died and I feel I’m adjusting well, albeit there are those sudden bursts of memory; a favorite restaurant, a fisherman headed for the docks, places we’ve been. Friends and family have been supportive and I have a roommate now, someone who is also a Christian. We get along well. I wasn’t sure I wanted someone else in the house I didn’t know, but God knew better. The day after Frank’s Celebration of Life, I took my family to the airport and returned home. The house was exceptionally quiet. No TV, no person sitting at his end of the couch reading. (He would go to the local used book store, load up on about 8 of the $1-$2 books, go through them in about 3 days, take them to the local library, and then return to the used bookstore for another load!) I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t feel like watching TV. I couldn’t concentrate on a book, I didn’t want to work on a writing project. I just sat out on the deck in the sunshine and listened to the birds calling to one another. I watched the clouds sail overhead, remembering my childhood when we used to lie on the grass and guess the shapes of the clouds. All around me, life was moving on but I felt lost. I had never lived alone in my life. I’d lived with my mom before I married my first husband. We were divorced after 21 years; but I had three children to take care of. My youngest was still home when I met Frank, a retired Navy Commander. We went together 5 years before we were ready to plunge into matrimony a second time and were were married 27 years. His son Michael, as per Frank’s wishes, took his ashes to scatter in his favorite fishing spot in Alaska. There was no grave I could visit for closure. My daughter had helped me pack up Frank’s clothes for the Rescue Mission men’s shelter, but there was one shirt that I just couldn’t send away. It was a red and black-checkered shirt jacket Frank wore on cold mornings. He didn’t believe in bathrobes. I took a picture of the shirt on the couch next to the box of ashes. Then Michael came to pick up the container for the trip to Alaska. It was a difficult day for both of us. Some days I look at the picture and can still see my husband, sipping his coffee and concentrating on the crossword puzzle. Foolish? Perhaps, but for now, it helps.