A reader may wonder why the subtitle to this blog is memories of my best friend rather than …of my wife, or even …of my love.  It’s simply because that was our pet name for each other from the beginning.  We would be in a state of contentedness with one another somewhere, just holding hands while we walked or drifted asleep at night, and one of us would say, I love you best friend.  And the response was always, I love you, best friend.

When the doctors explained the pain she had been experiencing was much more serious than we thought, Time suddenly became the enemy.  Did we have time to learn how to solve the problem, to make the correct decisions and to bring her back to health?  My brain went into emergency overdrive.  My spirit was wracked with the torment of the attempt.

I held her tighter throughout the two years after the initial diagnosis.  I became more thankful for the time we shared and the importance of every minor event.  Her condition at times seemed to improve, but the concealed disease progressed faster than the cure.

Things fall apart.  Why is it so hard for us to believe that Time is our enemy only if we fight it?  We built a tiny civilization and held it together as long as we could until the forces of entropy found their way into the gate and reduced it and us to ashes.

Yet, the world continues to spin, and new civilizations rise from the dust.  Our children weave their own stories into the future, and likewise experience their own mortality, and on and on.  If anything can be learned from the past it is this paraphrase of the eleventh commandment:  Love one another… while you can.  Then, Time is recognized as the mere mechanism it is.

She faced it all bravely.  Her spirit became more accepting and peaceful of the inevitability of it.  In the end, she preferred not to keep suffering and chose to drift away.


Our last summer together.  My beautiful Best Friend.



A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.   — John 13:34
Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow.  For what is your life?  It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.  — James 4:14




Relevant song: Isn’t It A Pity by George Harrison.


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