Beautiful day, blue sky, a few fingertip blurred clouds where Father Sky dragged his finger across the white lines he drew on his blue sky canvas. His clouds fanned out and resembled fluffy down feathers as they melted away. A thin layer of clouds came back around sunset and Mother Nature painted them in cotton candy colors of pale pink and blue as the sun set.

Pondered in the swing today and enjoyed bird watching. Birds seem to have no worries. They flit around the feeders seemingly happy. But like us they need food and water and shelter. They raise their young as we do and we both send our children from our nests out into the world. God protects them and protects us. And we can put our worries in his hands and get peace from worries that we can’t control. I just wonder if the birds have worries. I guess they worry about cats and hawks and other predators. We all have our worries and usually we worry needlessly over things that never come to pass. I am so guilty of this. I pray but even praying, I had a hard time turning the worries over to God.

The sunset was subdued in color today but the sun herself shone brightly in her golden gown as she walked down the horizon. She turned off the day’s light as Mother Nature stroked a color wash of pale pink and pale blueberry across the sky line. Father Sky kissed her goodnight and went to wake the night lights of the moon and stars.

Today is the third anniversary of Chief’s death. Seems just like yesterday that I sat by his bed holding his hand as he took his last breath and left this world. That sounds sad but as heartbreaking as it was it was also beautiful that we shared his last moments together, holding hands. I miss the warmth of his hands, large and callused, kind and gentle. I’m always looking at a photo of us walking at Hilton Head, hand in hand.

I miss him sitting by the fireplace making vegetable seed order lists from the seed catalogs I’d save and put in his Christmas stocking every year. I miss him grumbling about the prospect of snow when I’d be as excited as a child waiting for the first flake. I miss him saying, “He’s a fine little fella,” when he’d brag on Alexander and Emerson. I miss making pans of biscuits and skillets of corn bread, cooking collards and turnip greens. I miss resting in his arms and the comfort and security that I had with him. I’m a different person without him and I’m not anyone’s special person now.

A spouse has so many roles in our lives. We not only lose our spouse, we lose a friend, a lover, a travel partner, a confidant…. No only do we miss our partner but we miss who we were with them. We feel alone and incomplete. Every part of the day is different now and there is no routine. Even when you go to sleep and turn out the light you always feel the emptiness of the bed. I thank God every day for my happy memories with him. And I’m so grateful for my children and grandchildren and my three brothers and their families, and my friends who have helped me weather these years without Chief.

“The difference between an ordinary marriage and an extraordinary marriage is in giving just a little extra every day, as often as possible, for as long as we both shall live.” — Fawn Weaver