The story of Jim and I is far too long to write here, but suffice it to say that for ten years, I knew that there was someone in the world who knew and loved me and with whom I was safe. Before he was sick, I was so satified in our love. Whenever I think I am exaggerating this, I look back at my journals and often the word "satisfying" is written. He became desparately ill with a number of problems (lung disease being the main problem) in September of 1996. He, and thus we, underwent numerous changes and losses.
It was hard, and I was often slow in adjusting. But I did, and we did. He spent vitually the last three months of his life in the hospital attached to a repirator. He was fully concious, and the memories of these visits brim with love.
Though I never would have wished a life of suffering for him, I do miss him. Miss him as if a limb were removed from me. I often feel his spirit with me, answering questions and encouraging me. And, just as often, I miss his eyes and his lovely affection.
I am young enough to know that I may have many years in which to walk this earth without the person I felt most at home with. I'm not always sure how I am going to do it. I hope he and God walk closely with me.