Three on Earth, Five Together

This morning marks the fifth anniversary of my husband's passing from pancreatic cancer. Irv took his last breath in my arms at 9:23 AM on November 30, 2019, and it feels like only yesterday that he left us and went on ahead. To say that life without my soulmate is difficult is understating things and then some. I loved Irv more than life itself, and it is difficult to wrap my mind around the idea of years of life without him. Surviving without him is hard work, and flourishing is probably not in the cards. This day will never be anything but painful, and it will be very quiet.

For many years, I was married to a guy with a razor-sharp mind, a dry wit, a fine sense of irony and a great laugh. The natural world was an endless source of delight to him, and he never wearied of its grandeur and its beauty. He was passionate about trees, rocks and rivers, fields and fens, birds, bugs and woodland critters, sunrises and sunsets, full moons and starry nights. He loved his tribe fiercely and unconditionally.

He loved rambling, and ramble we did by golly, hand in hand and all over the place, packs on our backs, notebooks in our pockets, a thermos of tea, a camera around my neck and our beloved doggy sidekicks trotting along with us. I could not have had a more wonderful companion if I had written him into being myself, and I simply could not believe my good fortune. I look back on our life together with amazement and gratitude and so much love.

Now it is Beau and I who wander through the great wide world together, in the flesh anyway. Cassie and Spencer, his older sister and brother, traveled beyond the fields we know long ago, but they are right here with Irv, and all three are walking along in the woods with us. There will be five of us on the snowbound trail this winter, but three of us will not need parkas and snowshoes or leave paw prints in the white stuff. There is a small measure of comfort in knowing that we will walk these trails together, forever. A fine untrammeled wildness dwells in our blood and bones, all of us.

Journey well, my love. May there be wide fields, fens, forests and sunshine wherever you go. May grosbeaks sing in the trees over your head and may there be winding streams full of trout in the woods nearby. Beau and I miss you so much.