Widow's Voice

Autumn Leaves

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This week’s post will have to be short. I prepare to leave for Deer Tick Manor on Thursday night. On Friday I will help direct the setup for Saturday’s long overdue celebration of Lee’s life.

I recently have spent more time attending to professional matters than at any time this Summer. And before I depart, I still have one more important professional obligation to keep. So, the week figures to be one of my most hectic weeks since this past Spring when we were trying a case to a jury. It figures.

I have started gathering some indispensable things for the trip. I also maintain an up-to-the-moment to-do list.

I can tell you that I’m not bringing many photographs –there will be plenty on hand—but the small one depicted here is one of my personal favorites.

                                                                  

I know the exact spot, and when it was taken. I remember the surrounding circumstances leading up to the captured moment. This photo is completely familiar, but today it stings deep down, the way a raw Autumn wind stings exposed flesh.

I am certain this is not the only emotional jolt I will experience in the coming days.

About Gary Ravitz

In relevant part, my musings are for me. It’s one of the ways in which I process losing my sweetest. Of course, Lee didn’t want to die. She had fought like hell, but the relentless cancers kept coming: Skin cancers; breast cancer; head and neck cancer; colon cancer; and finally, the deadly pancreatic cancer. In June 2020, and only after being pressed hard by Lee, her oncologist opined that my wife had from two weeks to two months left to live, turned on her heels and nearly sprinted from the hospital room, never again to be seen or heard from by us. I promptly removed Lee from the hospital and brought her home. It was the right thing to do and I only wish I had acted sooner over “the best” medical advice to the contrary. In fact, my sweet wife only had nine days left to live. At the final, she embraced her own death with great courage and unfailing kindness. It was a truly remarkable display of grace and wondrous to behold. It was my great privilege and honor to be with her every step of the way. And now, it’s my privilege to be able to write a few words to you each week. In a nutshell, I believe every journey is unique, but, hopefully, to know that you do not have to walk it alone can also be reassuring. And, along the way, you might hear a bit more information about me.
Gary