Widow's Voice

But Still…

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I’ve been going nuts with the business of living ever since I returned home on Sunday, following my final few days at Deer Tick Manor. As I a prepare tonight’s impromptu cookout for some neighbors, I’m afraid that this week’s blog offering has less meat on the bone than is typical.

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As for my visit to Deer Tick, it was mostly fun and games, at least until Saturday when the reality hit me that within twenty-four hours, I would be saying my final goodbyes to the place Lee and I had made into our home away from home. Then on this past Sunday, as I strolled my property one last time before departing for good, memories and mental images of our time together there suddenly were popping into my head, much the same way that spring flowers suddenly will pop open their petals in response to warm sunlight, a phenomenon of nature we had been privileged to witness year after year. And in those few moments I felt the impact of an important transition now fast approaching, a mix of buoyant excitement for the adventures ahead and sad regret for what I would be leaving behind me.

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I am not a religious man. Nor a superstitious one. I don’t believe that there are angels or demons.

If being a pantheist means equating God with the forces and laws of the universe, then I might be a pantheist, I suppose. I would hope that the universe and living nature turn out to be an interacting whole, certainly something greater than the sum of the elementary particles.

I once had asked Lee how we would meet up in the Great Beyond, as if one could make definite plans. This discussion occurred long before Lee and I had any inkling that she would die from cancer. For no reason I can recall today, other than that we both had liked its looks from the photograph taken with the Hubble telescope, we agreed that when the time arrived we would reconnoiter at a place known as the Butterfly Nebula.



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Not too long after cancer killed Lee, I decided that if I was serious about meeting up with her in the future I should at least determine where the Butterfly Nebula exists while I still remain alive. I therefore learned that the Butterfly Nebula is a bipolar planetary nebula located in the constellation Scorpius (or Scorpio). It is around 3,800 light years away from Earth. The Butterfly’s wingspan stretches across three light years. Its central star is one of the hottest known stars in our galaxy with an estimated surface temperature of at least 220,000 degrees Celsius, and some estimates make it even hotter, perhaps as much 250,000 degrees Celsius. To puny human minds, such facts concerning the Butterfly Nebula’s sheer size, unimaginable distance from Earth and hellish temperatures make it an incomprehensible destination. At this moment, my hubris for ever having suggested to Lee that grains of sand, such as we, were capable of successfully navigating the wild, eternal tides that form our cosmos, left me feeling embarrassed. Science thus had shattered any secret New Age hopes I once might have harbored about the prospects for reconnecting with Lee in the Hereafter. But still…

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This past Monday I was thinking about the end of our time at Deer Tick Manor. Back at home, I was doing a bit of yard work in the cool of the morning when I noticed a balloon tied to a string, which must have floated into my yard and become stuck in a bush near the spot where I was working. I picked it up. The now-partially deflated balloon bore a printed message, which said: “I am always with you. I will always be with you.” I thought to myself, it’s just a bit of yard debris, but still…

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