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Day II: Dawn [Lauds]

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,

then walks with us silently out of the night.

—Rilke

Diary Entry: August 5, 2008—7:45 a.m.—Seattle

It is a new morning. I thank God for mornings. Night brings dark thoughts and weariness of soul. The new day brings with it a prospect of joy in life, perhaps for new possibilities, for a new way to walk these days with my darling. I truly hope so, because walking without her is deepest pain.

Linda and I kept this familiar prayer at our bedside:

This is another day, O Lord.

I know not what it will bring forth,

But make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be.

If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely.

If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly.

If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently.

And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly.

Make these words more than words . . .

—Book of Common Prayer

Day II: Daytime

Ungiven gifts pile about me.

Unsung songs remain

trapped in my throat.

Unsaid words lie rotting

in my mouth,

and I sit staring down

a lifetime of unlived days,

for love didn’t leave

when death arrived.

God, what will I do

with the unfinished love?

It wells up within me

with nowhere to go,

and I am bursting

with the pain of it.

—Ann Weems

Unfinished love. Love is never finished, of course, but our love was still deepening, still maturing. As her illness progressed, I sensed a greater tenderness in Linda’s touch and glance. The memory of them now is precious; painful but sweet. During her illness I learned difficult lessons about caring, about how to help her cope with her struggles. I have not finished the course, but the unfinished work of love now has a different assignment. The work is harder, because Linda can no longer gently correct my course. I won’t let this stop me, though.

I have done some things to keep alive what she most cared about. I have been working with a national organization to promote lung cancer research to which she dedicated her life. I am also seeking ways to honor her courage and compassion, her insight into the needs and suffering of others, her steadfast refusal to tolerate behavior that denies respect for the vulnerable, her always evident grace and patience.

While she now rests from her caring labors, her deeds follow after her (Rev. 14:13). Our love, unfinished but firm, will continue to live and grow.

Day II: Mid-Morning [Terce]

Diary entry: August 3, 2008—9:30 a.m.—On Amtrak train in mid-North Dakota

Yesterday’s travel went smoothly. After leaving my bags at Union Station, I walked around downtown Chicago, our hometown. It was a beautiful, sunny, cool day. Chicago was splendid, but Linda’s absence was painfully present to me. I hope that someday the memories of our precious times together here will be welcome and lovely, but now they just bring pain—pain at her loss, pain at my loss of her and of the joy of sharing these good times.