Diane, you left this world for the glories of Heaven nearly six months ago (a few short days from now).  How I miss you.  It was so wonderful being married to you.  My life really began when I met you, and I am so lonely now without you.

I will always love you, and will do all I can to live in your honor, to keep your story alive, and to cherish the blessing of our thirty-six wonderful years together.  Thanks for being you.

My best friend and beloved wife Diane, my forever love, left the circles of this world on March 1, 2021, at age 69, to the loving embrace of her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. As her husband of 35 years, I want to tell her story, because everyone deserves to be remembered. As filmmaker Baz Luhrmann once said, “in the end, all you have is your story”, and hers is an important one that I want to chronicle.

Diane died of dementia, a very rapid decline less than four months after her diagnosis. I want to write her story in part to encourage and help others who may be struggling with this dread disease in their own life or that of a loved one. I want people to know that, in the midst of the grief and struggle, there is hope. Love is stronger than death, and illness does not get the final word.

Diane was always such a generous person. I remember how, each year, we would visit the "giving tree" in the mall and buy a present for one child. We love cats, so one year, a child wanted a "Littlest Pet Shop" set and it was a real joy to purchase that. I remember how she would encourage me to make a donation to the humane society each year, including cat treats, cat toys, cat blankets, and so forth. I remember how she would buy and deliver designer gifts for her brother, including a "Packer package" featuring a miniature Packer-themed Christmas trailer. I remember how she would laboriously make craft projects -- ornate cross-stitch pictures, or complex knitted afghans -- for friends and relatives. I remember how she would make up to ten tins of special fancy cookies for my colleagues at the university each Christmas. I remember how, when a friend adopted a kitten, she put together a "kitty starter pack" for her.

Diane made me human, and I will love her forever.  One life, one love.

“Blessed are those who die in the Lord from henceforth, and their works do follow them” (Rev. 14:13)

Diane used her God-given gifts for good in this world.  She baked untold thousands of special cookies over the decades.  She loved cats and rescued many from a life on the street.  She did a lot of cross-stitch projects for friends and relatives.  I am very grateful that, in these ways, her legacy lives on.

Grief involves walking a fine line.  I want to (and will) remember my beautiful Diane always, but as time goes by, I hope that will be only with joy and gratitude, not with the devastation and sorrow that early loss brings.  As I write today, it has only been three and a half weeks, and these two emotional states fluctuate rapidly and without warning.  I never liked roller coasters as a child, but I'm on one now.

Yet, as I went through a box of cards and letters and gifts that Diane gave me throughout the 37 and a half years of our relationship, I find that on good days, the gratitude can predominate.  It makes all the difference that someone as special and as beautiful as Diane loved me, and loved me deeply.  I no longer have to worry whether I am lovable, because she loved me.  And she loves me still from Heaven.  We will have a joyful reunion together some day, though the intervening separation is so difficult.  Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away.  Then, the great felicity.

The lonely sound of the passing freight train woke me this morning in time to feed the shy cat. I slept well, dreaming of Diane. In my dream, it was our wedding. She wanted cats as bridesmaids, but couldn't get them to walk slowly down the aisle in a straight line for the processional. They kept darting about, leaping at the feet of guests.

Of course, despite the photoshopped picture that accompanies this story, we didn't really have cats at our wedding.  This was the only flaw in an otherwise beautiful day, the happiest day of my life.  Diane had such a love for all the creatures of the earth, but especially cherished cats.  She is, I believe, surrounded by cats who preceded her to Rainbow Bridge, and is caring for them in Heaven. 

I so admire her compassion for the voiceless ones, and hope to emulate that during the remainder of my earthly journey.

Soon after the earlier picture below was taken, Diane said to me, "We really ought to think about getting rid of this wallpaper." To an academic, "think about" suggests a long period of rumination and study, but just as I was starting to mentally outline a curriculum, I was interrupted by the sound of ripping. "I guess we're committed now," I concluded. I loved Diane's spontaneity and ability to live in the moment. I will really miss that.

Here is a smattering of memories from my 37+ years with Diane -- each one very brief, by design.  We cherished the glory of ordinary days together.

I remember walking hand in hand with her down the streets of Antigo in the winter, when we were first dating, looking at the pale mauve light of the fading sunset illuminating the uppermost branches of the bare trees.

I remember going to the local shopping mall, when it was brand new (and not deserted as it is these days), and buying her a stuffed cat, which we named "Fluffy".  Before we were married, she used to sleep with it. 

I remember Diane knitting me an afghan, during the year when we lived 180 miles apart, and mailing it to me.  When I opened the box, the scent of her perfume, which had become imbedded in the yarn from the hours she spent holding it close to work on it, filled the room, and made me cry because we were apart.

I remember how, when we lived a block away from Lake Michigan, we used to walk hand in hand along the shore, watching the ore boat come in.  Once, we flew a kite over the lake.

I remember how we went down to a local park in the spring, and watched the newly hatched ducklings swimming uncertainly behind their mothers in the river.

I remember laboriously stenciling the walls of the kitchen and dining room in our new home, a challenging but rewarding job.  Afterwards, we watched an episode of "Quincy, M.E.".

I remember buying an aptly named "THUD" juggling kit at a local retail outlet and bringing it home.  It featured three plush balls and a useless instruction booklet.  I never learned how to use it, but it was fun to try.

I remember going to a local high school Christmas concert and holding hands with Diane in the darkened auditorium.  During the intermission, the audience was invited to join in a Christmas carol singalong, back in the days when I could still sing.

I remember, though we aren't Catholic, going to a Latin mass at a local church.  The service began with a procession featuring a thurifer, and it was weeks before the scent of incense left the sweater I had been wearing.

I remember how an elderly neighbor fell ill, and had to be admitted to a nursing home.  It was the holiday season, so Diane had us purchase a tiny artificial tabletop tree, complete with little wooden ornaments, and take it to him in an attempt to cheer him.

I remember going for a walk with Diane, and as we returned home, two children pointed to a stray cat, asking us, "Is that your cat?"  Soon, he was.

I remember going to Door County, one of Diane's favorite spots, and participating in a traditional "fish boil".  The meal ended with cherry crisp and world-class coffee.

I remember how, each autumn, we would go "leaf looking", driving along the back roads of central Wisconsin, and looking at the brilliant scarlet and gold colors that, as Diane put it, "sank into the soul".

I remember how we saw, at the side of the road, a homeless-looking couple holding a crudely lettered cardboard sign that said "Visions of Cheeseburgers".  Diane was always a compassionate person, so she had me stop and give them $20 so they could fulfill their dream of ground beef in a bun.

I remember how one of our cats would push toy mice down into the cold air intake chute on the floor, so I'd fish them out and toss them back to him one at a time.  He never missed one, and we named him our "circus cat".

I remember how we would go to the county fair each year.  I would purchase and consume a traditional "mint malt" (made with mint chip ice cream), and would play an obligatory game of Skee Ball.  We would visit the reconstructed "little red schoolhouse" that demonstrated what one-room education had been like back in the day.

I remember how we saw a hot-air balloon floating overhead one afternoon while driving, and decided to chase it and see where it ended up.  Amazingly, we were able to follow it and watch it land in the middle of an empty field.

I remember the year we tried to grow acorn squash in the back yard.  We couldn't figure out how to keep the squirrels and rabbits at bay, so we ended up with a harvest of four small squash.  So much for a subsistence lifestyle.

I remember how we drove to a local craft shop to purchase a decorative wreath, as Diane liked to change out the front porch decorations to match the changing seasons.  It was late October, and the clerk who checked out our purchase was wearing cat ears.