March 2, 2023
March 2, 2023
My beautiful Diane (1951-2021) left the circles of this world for the glories of Heaven two years ago today.
I think today of the woman who was so generous and giving: who would always make me stop and give a few dollars to homeless people holding cardboard signs along street corners, as well as to one memorable couple whose sign said "Visions of Cheeseburgers". I remember that we'd visit the Giving Tree at the mall each year and pick out a special gift for one child each year.
I think today of the woman who spent endless hours making dozens of fancy cookies and treats for my colleagues at the university each year. She'd also mail tinnisters (her word) of cookies to relatives, who eagerly awaited their arrival and, it's said, fought over who got which varieties. Some of her fanciest cookies took two days to make, and once we had to make a 200-mile round trip to obtain one needful ingredient.
I think today of the woman who "walked the circuit" with me in the morning -- some four miles when we were still young. We'd hold hands, usually each other's, and just talk about nothing, and marvel at the slow turning of the seasons.
I think today of the woman who spent hours making detailed craft projects for relatives and friends, which now adorn many homes. She knit many afghans, and tried to teach me to knit once, a hopeless endeavor. I completed one row of awkward, random stitches before deciding that we all have our differing gifts, and should stick to them.
I think today of the woman who cared for all the voiceless ones of the world, especially cats ('kaets, n.), a small crepuscular species that is superior to humans. Around our third anniversary, we were walking around town when she stopped alongside a home and heard something hidden in some bushes. "Look, a kitten!" she said. The rest was history -- a glorious, fur-laden history.
I think today of my sunflower girl, who taught me to live in the moment and to leave the world of theories and abstractions aside, and to cherish the glory of ordinary days. She taught me to love the world of nature, and to be spontaneous and even a bit daring. She taught me all about classic movies, and we would quote lines from them to each other at odd intervals. "When you're loyal, you're loyal!"
I think today of an awesomely cute former cheerleader who loved me -- yes, me, with my awkward haircut and my incurably quirky humor and my modest social skills. "Hi, I'm Diane!' "Mutual, I'm sure." She was the making of me, and I live in her honor now, seeking to preserve her story and her legacy. She is always, in my mind, the girl who loved cats and flowers. Smile for me, my Diane. I'll see you in the Morning.
I think today of the woman who was so generous and giving: who would always make me stop and give a few dollars to homeless people holding cardboard signs along street corners, as well as to one memorable couple whose sign said "Visions of Cheeseburgers". I remember that we'd visit the Giving Tree at the mall each year and pick out a special gift for one child each year.
I think today of the woman who spent endless hours making dozens of fancy cookies and treats for my colleagues at the university each year. She'd also mail tinnisters (her word) of cookies to relatives, who eagerly awaited their arrival and, it's said, fought over who got which varieties. Some of her fanciest cookies took two days to make, and once we had to make a 200-mile round trip to obtain one needful ingredient.
I think today of the woman who "walked the circuit" with me in the morning -- some four miles when we were still young. We'd hold hands, usually each other's, and just talk about nothing, and marvel at the slow turning of the seasons.
I think today of the woman who spent hours making detailed craft projects for relatives and friends, which now adorn many homes. She knit many afghans, and tried to teach me to knit once, a hopeless endeavor. I completed one row of awkward, random stitches before deciding that we all have our differing gifts, and should stick to them.
I think today of the woman who cared for all the voiceless ones of the world, especially cats ('kaets, n.), a small crepuscular species that is superior to humans. Around our third anniversary, we were walking around town when she stopped alongside a home and heard something hidden in some bushes. "Look, a kitten!" she said. The rest was history -- a glorious, fur-laden history.
I think today of my sunflower girl, who taught me to live in the moment and to leave the world of theories and abstractions aside, and to cherish the glory of ordinary days. She taught me to love the world of nature, and to be spontaneous and even a bit daring. She taught me all about classic movies, and we would quote lines from them to each other at odd intervals. "When you're loyal, you're loyal!"
I think today of an awesomely cute former cheerleader who loved me -- yes, me, with my awkward haircut and my incurably quirky humor and my modest social skills. "Hi, I'm Diane!' "Mutual, I'm sure." She was the making of me, and I live in her honor now, seeking to preserve her story and her legacy. She is always, in my mind, the girl who loved cats and flowers. Smile for me, my Diane. I'll see you in the Morning.