Like I did this morning. I was getting dressed for a day that is going to be mostly at home plodding through a number of tasks — I had only three before I went to a meeting last night. Today includes another meeting, and my list will grow again. Today’s meeting is with some of “my old AF buddies” down at Castle Rock. A good many of them knew Bill, and a couple of them were pretty close to his heart.
As I looked for a shirt to go with the heavy black jeans I put on, because it is springtime in the Rockies, I spotted a black, collared polo-style shirt that belonged to Bill.
I kept a few things, you know. I am not ready to be done with the man I shared a bed with for 28 years.
As I pulled on the shirt, I let my head and my heart go to that place where I could imagine the shirt — its crest representing the unit he flew with in Viet Nam — holding me in his arms. I knew where this was going to end up, and it didn’t take long to get there with tears sliding down my cheeks and me making fish faces.
It was a sweet moment, just before the tears, and totally worth it. I enjoyed that hug, and I honor the tears that followed it.