Monday, February 27, 2012


There used to be a wonderful couple living in Portland within easy driving distance of us. Back then our kids were small, and our German shepherd, Nikita, was still a young lady. I remember the first time I visited their home. So full of character, and so full of art. Like the couple. Elizabeth and I talked about wallpaper. My DH and I mingled with a whole lot of people a lot smarter than us. Fantastic food, warmth, smiles all around. And we had a great time, as we did whenever we got a chance to hang out with them.

I think part of the reason we got along with them so well is because they were a strong couple. Mark and Elizabeth. My DH and me. A lot of people talk about my DH and me the same way so many people talk about Mark and Elizabeth, with the names run together. MarkandElizabeth. ElizabethandMark. They held hands. They stood shoulder to shoulder. When they weren't in the same room, they still seemed to draw from each other. Their wedding was a kick. I cheered.

As the years passed we got fewer and fewer chances to get together, but every time we met we sort of picked up where we left off. A few minutes of catch-up and we were the paired friends that got along for every reason and no reason at all. I admired them so much.

Mark passed away the other day and I felt a shatter-shock as if a world made of a perfect diamond had cracked.

And now it's Elizabeth. Elizabeth and the memory. He's right there but we can't touch him. From here I can see them together, but when I see Elizabeth again he won't be there. How does a person recover when they lose half their body? The answer is, they don't, but they just do ....

She's strong and loved and wonderful and beautiful and there was an Elizabeth before a Mark. Now there will be an Elizabeth after Mark. The diamond cracked and reflects light--blinding rainbows, soft glows. I have so many wishes for her. So many wishes. Blessings upon blessings for Elizabeth.

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