Saturday, August 28, 2010


This morning the sunrise was so beautiful. Each cloud was glowing with a golden light that turned pink and then purple as the sun rose higher. This light extended to all the trees so that each branch was rose colored. Always takes my breath away when I can witness this.

Last night the sunset had the bay on fire and each boat out there ignited in a fuschia colored glow. As I looked out over that gorgeous scene I talked to Jim, told him how much I miss him and how he would not have allowed me to just sit here, not wanting to go out or really see anyone. Jim couldn't sit still like that, couldn't have just watched the sun go down ... he needed to be out in it. I told him I don't know why he had to go first, it seems to me he had so much more to offer this world then I do. He was the one that blazed through life and wanted to accomplish so many things. It makes no sense to me - not that I expect it ever will. I worry I needed Jim to keep me lusting for life and interested in it. I can sit and watch it all go by lately.

The waning moon was still pretty big and bright when I turned off my bedside lamp. I usually would go to bed before Jim but whenever the moon was reflecting it's spot light on the water, like it was last night, I would call Jim to come see it. He always would and we would stand in the window with arms around each other just soaking up the moonlight. I felt him here with me last night. Felt that he was looking at this moon with me. It was a brief sensation, but I trust it was what it was.

Many folks are saying to me "you HAVE to tell me about the sweat when you get back!" And I plan to do this. I will have my computer with me knowing that I have internet service while in Denver and with Jim's sister on the western slope, so I will be able to post the before and after thoughts, for those who want to check in.

I'm looking forward to being in the mountains again. I need space that open with that big sky and those jagged peaks. It will be very different being out there without Jim. Very, very different.

Loving you all back,


  1. Beautiful. Truly Beautiful...

  2. Dearest Mary, I cannot read your words without tears coming to my eyes, not only because I feel things so easily and deeply, but because what I feel in you is such "sweet", poignant, elegant, grace-filled beauty. I feel the heart and soul of a woman who is so in touch with the pulse of Life, even in its rawness. I am a lot like Jim, I want to be out IN it, BUT I also am a LOT like you, where I want to to just sit, be still, watch and feel. I have a mix of both in me. And in grief, deep life change, or loss, I am very much like you.

    One of the many things that draws me to you is your intense passion for life, your connection to the natural world and it's infinite beauty. Whether you go out "into" it like you describe Jim doing, or you sit in stillness by the window, regardless you are filled with an intense passion for life, for beauty, for nature, for people, wildlife and everything around you. You are one of the MOST alive people I will ever know.

    I am so grateful to reconnect with you. You are always in my thoughts. Emily (my sister) and I spoke briefly on the phone the other day and we were talking about you with SO MUCH respect and love. You are a beautiful rare soul. I love you, Robin

  3. Mary: I couldn't sleep early this morning and finally went outside where my thoughts had more room and could get out of my head, and the moonlight was reflected by scattered clouds. Zoey the cat zipped along beside me, like some kind of whirling dervish, ecstatic to have the company and scaring me to death in the meantime. Moments of connection. I just found your blog, read from the beginning. Keep writing, girl. Keep writing.
    The healing will continue.