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Yesterday, Anne woke up. I mean this in a profound way, new for me, that is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Well, not quite: I remember a few years ago when my sister woke up like this.

One moment, the eyes are there, but they are just eyes. The next, something glistens from within, and you see it: the soul has returned to the surface of life, called back from where it stood, waiting for the body to either embrace it again or let it go.

Anne’s body has embraced her soul again, and I, also, have been included in that embrace. I was the shadowy form who was always there, singing my song of hope and longing: I love you, you’re my precious, come back to me.
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Saturday, October 18 was the most terrible day my wife and I have ever known. It started out as a lovely and very normal day. We went to a movie, then watched a baseball game with our son. At about nine, we went home. On the way, Anne suddenly said, “I have so many wonderful memories of my marriage.”

I was rather surprised–not that she had good memories of what has been a wonderful marriage for both of us, but because she said it. She’s a here and now person, not given to retrospection. I said that I was so glad to hear it, and I felt just the same.
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