It is closed.

There is no lock.

I am accompanied by history and the past acknowledges its presence.

Another day.

I am accompanied by curiosity and not let that get the better of me.

Another day.

I am accompanied by impulse and know that would be an insult to Bette and everyone I hold dear.

Another  day.

I am accompanied by measured thought and gratefully the distance is too great.

Another day.

I am accompanied by despair and palm wet with tears would fail to open.

Another day.

I am accompanied by faith and pray it gain in strength.

Another day.

I am accompanied by Grief. The desire to open the door is overwhelming. I don’t feel any constraint. The moment is quiet. I look around. I am alone.

I say, “After all this time.”

Grief says, “What do you want from me? We sit side by side; you hardly talk. You are not taking care of yourself. You can’t deny you don’t think about it.”

I say, “Yeah but it wouldn’t be right; you know that.”

Grief says, “Yes, of course. The thing is it can happen by default and that shouldn’t be. You know all this; why do I have to say it.”

I say, “You don’t and I’m sorry you did. I’ll go now.”

Love says, “Why leave now? I can open the door.”

I say, “What happened to Grief ?”

Love says, “She is here. We are one.”

I say, ” Yes, please open the door.”

I step over the threshold. The ground is solid. No falling into an abyss. It is starless, moonless dark. I’m unwilling to move further. No, I am scared to move. Time has abandoned me. I feel something in the palm of my hand. I gently close my fingers around it and know it is paper. I reach back for the frame and step out of the dark. I unfold the paper.

Dearest John

What the heck are you doing? We’ve been through this. Your time has not yet come. Let it be of no consequence that mine has. I should rephrase that. Grief is the consequence and should know better than to bring you this close to the door. That pitch black is there for a reason and thank you know Who. It does give one pause literally and figuratively. Take comfort in knowing you have the best of both worlds-me in one and you in the other. Why disturb the arrangement? It is temporary enough. You leave me no choice but to quote an excerpt from a story you wrote five years ago. I remember saying “How sad; but damn I like it.” And you know I wasn’t one for melancholy writing. So here it is, love and oddly it involves a piece of paper.

My Dearest,

I suspect we are alone and the wake is over. Are you afraid? Are you drunk? Are you thinking of killing yourself? I knew I had to write this, my love. I wrote it a couple months ago and involved Sean in the clandestine operation. We all three know what a thick headed Irishman you are and nothing short of this letter might prevent an unwise decision.

During a visit I had with Sean we talked of you and how you would get on after my passing. He expressed real concern that you might feel suicide was the only option, oblivious to all others. I wasn’t as concerned but took his very seriously. I thought of a letter and leaving it for you with Sean’s help. I knew you would take my hand one last time and you would discover the paper.

You remember the stories of my cheerleading and my feeling of oneness with the team and fans? Dear Leo let me be your cheerleader and inspire you to ‘get game’.

Even if all you are doing now are the motions, eventually meaning will be acquired. I want you to give yourself that chance. I know what your future holds, we talked about it. And though we saw ahead with the two of us there, I ask you to be there for me.

I have another mission for you, Leo, and I insist you carry it out. I want you to take a leave of absence from work for the next few months. Take the insurance money and run. I know you wouldn’t let me talk about this earlier but I’m saying it now. Do some of the things we talked about doing together. Go to Europe and pay our respects to the artists that have had such an influence on us and cap off some evenings with a pint or two; raising a glass to the two of us.

All the profoundness of my being insists on your staying alive. I loved all the time we had together. I loved discovering your face and its’ lines, your eyes and their irrepressible steadfastness. Your voice is comfort. Your ability to connect with people is a skill to be treasured. Since the diagnosis my awareness of you has intensified and I believe my life will be diminished if, in my death, the world loses you.

As you know I have always tried to live life to the fullest. Remember how we talked about dying giving life meaning; well let’s hope my death leads you not astray. Let me quote Shakespeare and remind you death has no respect for a usurper.

“…there’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ‘tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he leaves what is’t to leave betimes?”

Oh, my love; be ready when your time comes, but not a second before. This is not the time to let pain and sorrow dictate your actions. Tell the people you come to know and call friend of our love and let them come to know me. I want the young people in your life to know ‘us’. I want to live in you. To die once is enough.

I remain faithfully yours, my beloved Irishman

I Love You

Even the thought of losing Bette had me in Grief’s shadow.

Love To You All