one minute at a time for twenty-four hours. One year ago yesterday: we woke at 7 am one year ago - you had moved upstairs to sleep in the den because you had a bad cold - "my nose is like a faucet." You in your glen plaid jammies - the same jammies that were lying in tatters on the floor of the Emergency Room 10 hours later.
I went to see Dr. Cathey at 3 - I called on my way home - no answer. I went to Target to fill the prescription. I called from Target - no answer. I called on the way home - 3/4 mile - no answer. I turned into the drive and the house was dark - it was 5 pm.
Now it is one year and one day later. Tonight 10 of your friends and I gathered in our home to eat, talk, laugh, and remember you and our life with them.
This is a sacred time - a time to remember - a time to honor you. My darling Tom.