Sunday, August 3, 2014


I never thought I'd write on Chuck's blog. He's too good a writer to have a mediocre follow-up by his lovely wife. But I have to. I need to. I even want to.

You see, whenever I read about an amazing person, living or deceased, who has done so much for so many people in a real and caring way, I always think about Chuck. It's not that he ever tried to save the world in one way or another. It's that everyone who knows him likes him because he is truly a lovely person, an authentic man.

These days, watching his mind waste away, I am reminded more and more of his awesomeness. His love of all of nature from the night sky to the june bug. His ability to make friends with children. His enjoyment of having young people around. At night when he sleeps I hear him laugh. I hope that he is having a beautiful dream.

He is so darn smart that he still amazes me with his insights. He knows he is losing his mind. He tells me he can't take it anymore. I know exactly how he feels except for one difference. He forgets that he can't take it. I don't.

The little boy who just moved in next store comes to the door and calls "Mr. Chuck, you ready to take a walk?".  Chuck gets up and says "Let's go!"

I miss him. He looks at me with empty eyes. I help him shower and dress. He still shaves himself. I make him breakfast and give him his pills. I feel less than myself these days. I am starting to think that I really don't know who I am anymore.  Then I realize that he still is showing me who I am.

I have pulled out pictures of him to remind me who he was. I reread a love letter or two from the many I have saved. I sometimes even pretend that we really did get to take that trip to Greece together.

I am committing myself to this blog to help me start the healing process. I am alone and I am lonely yet I have an active life. I have lots of students and friends and family. People who love me and care for me.

I know there are so many out there in the sam situation. One woman told me she's feels so guilty because she feels like a prisoner. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes: "Hint: The gate is not locked."

My hope is that I keep remembering that and opening the gate and stepping into my life fully and authentically, knowing that if Chuck could, he would accompany me on this journey. And, if he could, he would help me with my writing.