Today, July /24/2025 is 1,630 days since my lovely wife Lynnie passed from Cancer. She slipped to Heaven in her sleep around 10 PM on February 5th, 2021.
Hospice called and broke my world into very small, sharp, pieces; the kind of shattering that makes it hard to glue back together without gaps and holes and such.
I am not the kind of person who looks for happy endings, but this kind of train wreck is not easy to explain. You see the train in the ditch and you see the tracks where it came from but your mind can’t make the leap from one place to the other.
I am still emotionally crippled and tend to stay in the house where I have few surprises. Everywhere I look I see traces of her. I refuse to throw her things out or donate them; instead, I keep them close.
Is it healthy?
How would I know?
What do I care?
I know only that I move in fits and stops and there is a continuous clanking of pieces that don’t fit well together and the mirror doesn’t recognize me either.
But I write and it helps.
This is a very big universe and I don’t know where the fire station is.
Notes from the Traveler's Camp 