Dear Bob 3: Happy New Year 2013

The Continuing Journey of ‘A Widows Walk’.  It’s been two months.

Dear Bob,

Happy New Year!

I miss you.  I miss everything you ever were and more.  I never imagined life without the sound of your voice, your laughter, your touch.  We had a great passion for life whether through the loving, the playing, the working, and yes even through our differences.  It was an intensity that burned the wick bright.

Life is so quiet right now and mostly by choice.  I love the time I spend with God and with you. Towards the latter days of your life we didn’t talk allot because you lacked the breath but you were still here.  I could feel your energy.

God, Bob, I have so much to learn.  In your latter days  I could see decline but I always thought you would overcome it.  I guess the thought of your physical death was not on my radar.  I guess I thought we had tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. I weep for my lack of paying attention to what I knew in my heart and I pray to listen more closely as I trek the path before me.

The thought just came to me.  Who of us do know?  I think that is why we are prompted to live in the moment so as to lend ourselves fully to our loved ones over and above all.  It is not about the material things of life, it is about the heart.  I loved you, I love you so much.

From the early days forward our life was about traveling down the highway together.  We loved, laughed, lived and worked together.  We leaned into one another and yet gave each the freedom to be.

In the beginning you were defensive when I shared writings about God and Jesus.  You said I was trying to change you.  I told you I was the last person who would try to change you.  I read my writings, to you, to anchor them and to try to understand them within myself.  I know you were not against God but more against the organized religion that was of your childhood.  You, like myself, actually had problems with those who seemed harsh in judgments, arrogant and prideful, and hypocritical.  They could talk a good story but seemed disconnected in heart.  They could quote scripture, talk about Christ and God in one breath and in the next speak hateful words, or commit adultery, lie, and cheat.  They could be fearful of losing the material things of life.  You said if that is what it means to be a Christian I don’t want any part of it.

But through life experience and your close walk with near death experiences you began to come home to the truth in your own heart.  Your relationship with God and Christ was personal.  We often spoke of it and prayed as you held your wood carved cross next to your heart as I did mine.  Those moments brought peace.

These are the things I am learning.  I have no right to judge another. I do not have the right to even think I could change another for change comes, in the most unsuspecting moments through grace.  For me it felt like a divine intervention.  From there it was like riding the ebb and flow with remembrance of that holy moment and a vision of what taking the road less traveled felt like.

These days of missing you are filled with joy and sorrow.  I know that you are at peace.  I know you are no longer suffering and I know you are surrounded by the sacred which remains a mystery to those of us on this side of the veil.

The days of missing your physical presence hold a deep ache within and a sorrow beyond words.  That which is of healing is in the knowing that we will dance the dance again in glory.  Until then I will place my foot upon the path where God leads me for I know He is on purpose in our lives and for that I am grateful.

I love you.


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