Yesterday I wrote to you, Ted, desperate for your 'light', for a sign that showed me you're still out there, dancing in the moonlight. Then, I woke up in the morning and made my way to our couch. In the utter exhaustion, weakness, and grief that has plagued me deeply, I laid down. I couldn't figure out what an annoying buzzing was that I'd never heard before. I thought it was one of the wasps that have taken over our house. Then I saw something flickering. I realized there was a rainbow-maker hung high on the window that I'd never seen. Rainbows began to dance all over the walls, without any pattern or organization. I said to Lena, who was next to me: this is Teddy, right? She said: absolutely. The rainbows moved down to my body and ran over my legs, and chest, and other places Ted adored. I was able to smile and laugh as I gyrated with the rainbow flickers, knowing it was his light and his playful mind. And now I know that when the sun is out at that hour, I have something to do - I can see my beloved dance in the rainbows. It gives me something to look forward to, which is a glimmer (literally) of hope.
And in case another sign was needed:
Our pup, Kira, woke me over an hour ago. She climbed into bed feeling much heavier and more needy than I'd ever noticed. We both cried for a bit, but something in her told me to get up. I got up and went to Ted's closet. Laid on the floor and cried there with her for a bit. But something in her told me to keep moving, she took me downstairs. This is unlike her because Kevin had only been to sleep an hour before and I knew she'd been fed and out. She is not usually needy. She asked for food. I opened the door to the garage and a giant black bear looked up at me, paws full of kale salad, quinoa, and leftover chicken from the catering that has been so generously supplied for all the family in town. It was my Teddy. He just wanted a healthy 4am snack, per usual. The bear got up and slowly trotted off into the darkness, Kira and I standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and excited. Probably best that he left, because my first inclination was to run and hug him.
I had told Ted many times lately that I look for bears on my drives to and from the house and whenever I look out the windows. I have never seen one before. We leave the garage open accidentally weekly and it's never happened. And on Sunday, Teddy's dear friend Frenchy had also been looking for a sign. His Elizabeth had woken up to go to work to find a bear leaning on Frenchy's car. It was also their first bear sighting. Maybe if I hadn't made my way down there, seen him, and then closed the doors when he left, he would have cleaned up his dishes and mess, like Ted would have. Or more likely, he was reminding Kevin and I that tomorrow is garbage day, because he always remembered, and we always forgot.
He is here, strong and free and playful: in nature, in light, in animals, and in our hearts. I will never stop looking.
Our pup, Kira, woke me over an hour ago. She climbed into bed feeling much heavier and more needy than I'd ever noticed. We both cried for a bit, but something in her told me to get up. I got up and went to Ted's closet. Laid on the floor and cried there with her for a bit. But something in her told me to keep moving, she took me downstairs. This is unlike her because Kevin had only been to sleep an hour before and I knew she'd been fed and out. She is not usually needy. She asked for food. I opened the door to the garage and a giant black bear looked up at me, paws full of kale salad, quinoa, and leftover chicken from the catering that has been so generously supplied for all the family in town. It was my Teddy. He just wanted a healthy 4am snack, per usual. The bear got up and slowly trotted off into the darkness, Kira and I standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and excited. Probably best that he left, because my first inclination was to run and hug him.
I had told Ted many times lately that I look for bears on my drives to and from the house and whenever I look out the windows. I have never seen one before. We leave the garage open accidentally weekly and it's never happened. And on Sunday, Teddy's dear friend Frenchy had also been looking for a sign. His Elizabeth had woken up to go to work to find a bear leaning on Frenchy's car. It was also their first bear sighting. Maybe if I hadn't made my way down there, seen him, and then closed the doors when he left, he would have cleaned up his dishes and mess, like Ted would have. Or more likely, he was reminding Kevin and I that tomorrow is garbage day, because he always remembered, and we always forgot.
He is here, strong and free and playful: in nature, in light, in animals, and in our hearts. I will never stop looking.
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