Hollister died on December 23. He left just before Christmas. While he was in the hospital, all through December, he'd been preparing (behind my back) for Christmas. One day, I caught him with a large wad of money. He told me he wanted to get me something really special for Christmas. While we were talking, he asked if there was something really special I wanted. I told him that I had been wanting an expensive digital camera for some time - there was just never enough money, so I kept putting it off. He said, "Get it." I smiled and told him his money would be waiting at home for him.
Well, he never made it home to spend it. I've been responsible, taking care of his funeral expenses and taking care of the household bills. His money has been sitting here. Today, after having checked out all sorts of possibilities for getting 'the' camera, I finally ordered it. My love had a big heart - and, even in the hospital, he took his time to put together the money for that final gift. Even while I struggle with the questions about whether I could have done more, been more, during his last days, I'm honoring him with the gift he wanted to give me. I can't say I feel worthy of it.
It seems too easy to stay here, alone, and grieve. I'm sure that's not what he would want for me. As Spring edges closer, I'm hoping to take that camera out to see the world - not faraway reaches of it, but the world around me. Maybe it will help me to move forward.
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