I was married for just 25 years and 13 days when my husband, Andrew, died at age 55 of a heart attack. We had just moved and bought a new house.
Even though it sounds selfish to say I’m writing this for myself, it is one reason. But in the process I do hope that someone might read what I’ve written and find that he/she feels the same way, or even a different way, or can relate in at least a small way.
I won’t dwell on sadness. I’ll touch it and be with it. Life goes on, and that’s the part that I have left. Right now there’s a lot of “without” about which to write. At the same time I know that there has to be a lot of “with.” There will be a lot of “with.”
I may not be able to enjoy every experience of every one of these days. What has been familiar is gone. But I need to enjoy what I can as what I have now becomes the familiar and becomes my experience.
With And Without Experience 
Hi Darcy and girls…we think of you so often and with such fondness; and every time we drive into little Birmingham we look at your old house, and sigh sadly. We miss all of you. Let’s get together someday. Come visit us in little Bham, and/or we’ll come see you and the girls in your new home.
I’m glad to read your musings. They do inspire and give hope. Thank you.
xxoo
Bob and Dorothy
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Thanks for your comment, Dorothy. It would be nice to see you. : )
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