Day 2 -- The world hasn't changed

If I wanted to fret about this journey, and how I will survive, today offered many opportunities -- not by what anyone said or did, but how I scared myself.  Tomorrow morning, Danny leaves to go back home, and I will be given the learning opportunity of a whole unscheduled, unstructured day to.............  I spent some time scaring myself with visions of rattling around the house, nothing to do (yeah, right), and just sitting on the back porch starring mindlessly into nothing to try to keep the pain away.
Danny and I spent an entire afternoon -- reminiscing, weeping, me trying to avoid his appropriately probing questions, (and patiently waiting  until I heard the thunder of my feet and would come back to the path I really needed to be on), and tenderly remembering we have been on a parallel journey for a long time -- never letting the important distance get too great.  Words cannot describe what we mean to each other -- because the connection cannot be understood outside a nonverbal spiritual communication.  See what happens when you try to put feelings into words -- it just doesn't work!
Anyway, just a little bit ago Danny gave me his manuscript from the Memorial Service.  I thought I could read it over with no trouble --  hearing the words was both painful and celestial -- they so captured Margaret's spirit.  Well, the printed words on paper were no less painful and no lest celestial.
Probably influenced by Liz calling -- she had just gotten back home (YEA!) after being caught in Europe because of the Iceland eruption and missed being physically present at the Memorial Service and reception.  Her presence was here -- sending soup by remote control, emails to let the Bridge Builders know of Margaret's death and what the arrangements were for the Memorial Service and Reception, keeping the "Girl Scout Gang" busy ensuring that  all that could be done was being done to let me know they were grieving with me.  And in our phone conversation she so tenderly and wisely shared with me some of early part of  her journey when Carol died, and she let us (Margaret and me) walk beside her on some of that path.  It is really hard to scare oneself about being alone and helpless when reminded that there are so many people who are there to invite to me sit by the water, put up my feet and just enjoy the world and be with sensitive, loving, caring people.  That is a guaranteed path correction toward wholeness, even with a black hole now as part of my being.  And it is only Day 2.  My learning is growing exponentially, particularly as a whole host of folks gently stand by and smile as I stumble along -- and unanimously applaud my baby steps with the encouraging words that it is OK to be me, and to let myself experience the wide range of seemingly conflicting feelings in such a chaotic way.  And every time I look up I notice that the host of people seem to stretch to infinity -- maybe they are the carriers of the hand of God.