More Than a Decade

In 2020, I wrote Seven Years. It was a reflection on life with and without Wife and Ki. At the time, Wife had been gone for seven-years and Ki was dying.

Even now, as I write these words, a tear comes to my eye — a remembrance of my life with Wife for all those years and for the nine years that Ki lived with us, and then with me.

Now Wife has been gone for more than a decade. Few days go without some kind of remembrance of her, certainly no weeks do. The pain of that loss is mostly abated, although the longing that goes with loss never ends. Each time I remember her, I wish things had turned out differently even if my rational mind begs to differ.

Each time I pour a glass, I raise it to the east where her home was and her final resting place is. It is a toast and a salute to the years we spent together. And a chance to whisper a prayer of thanks and gratitude for that happy accident that brought us together.

And I remember Ki, gone now almost five years. She was the first dog so integrated into my life that we were inseparable. With Ki’s departure, Sera now lives that role. We are seldom apart and only when necessary.

Life goes on, with its ebb and flow of easier times and harder times. But it does go on. And, even with that ebb and flow of ease, it is still good. And, I remain grateful.

I remember clearly that day at Asilomar when I made the capture. I remember exactly how I turned and saw Wife framed in the window, watching me head for the lodge for a coffee. And I remember the quality of the light falling on her as I raised my camera to make the capture. I am grateful that I noticed and took the time to capture the moment.