Endless love

I'm not handling the recent news very well. He's dead at 63.  At times I turn up my music in the house, just blast it and sing as loud as I can.  My singing is not on key, like yours.  Mine is a voice of discordant yelling, but it helps to get it out. 

I sought the truth with Roger.  All the poetry and songs couldn't hide the fact we found each other, lost each other, repeatedly, and now he's gone.  I met him a week after I became a new bride at 18.  What do you know at 18?  Lots, it turns out - love is many things, all pure and clear, then time muddles things.

Wallowing in self pity isn't good for me and I'm trying to be positive, realize it's over, and move on.  I feel pain in my heart though.  Maybe because I lifted a heavy box of books, searching all over for a special card he gave to me.  I still can't find it - put it in a special place when I was moving.  I have the book of Rumi, the cds he burned for me, the gold & amber jewelry, the heavy foreign cookbook, and more. 

I'm worthy.  I want to be with you more than ever, my English handsome brilliant sunny knight.  You know it.  I'm a good person and I wasn't meant to spend my days in sorrow.  God loves us.  I want a beautiful life of love.  I planted peas and radishes in my garden and I felt good again, listening to nature.  The angels said "Wait, we have a plan.  He'll come to you.  He needs you, too.  He needs you more.  Roger is gone.  Live and love."