It’s a recurring theme for me: something occurs that roils my emotional waters, instantly flooding me with dark memories of grief-filled days when the icy reality of Lee’s death occupied my every waking moment. Such emotional waves are not connected to a specific date, place, or occasion, but rather surface unexpectedly, and can be triggered by things most people might view as innocuous.

In going through yesterday’s mail, I received one of those bulk mailers soliciting a charitable contribution.  It’s a common occurrence at this time of year. This one was from an organization called Caring Bridge. I was familiar with Caring Bridge, which is a site host for the friends and families of someone who is experiencing a significant medical issue. Visitors post messages of encouragement, sometimes photographs, even videos, and, in turn, they can get the latest news about a sick friend or loved one.

I am familiar with the site. Back on June 20, 2020, we opened a Caring Bridge site for Lee, who by then was back home from the hospital to spend her final days. Indeed, Lee died shortly thereafter, on July 2^nd to be exact. During its brief duration, her website drew one thousand five hundred twenty-seven visits. I always found it remarkable that Lee quietly touched so many other lives: family and current friends, of course; many co-workers; folks from her hometown in Michigan, including some childhood friends. With the slightest tinge of jealousy, I would note that one old boyfriend had weighed in to share his well-wishes.

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Over the course of a year, Caring Bridge sends me multiple mailers. However, the one that arrived yesterday prompted me to visit Lee’s Caring Bridge site. I couldn’t tell you why.

It was not unlike visiting a cemetery. I was reminded of the forgotten names of many kind people who contributed to Lee’s site.  Some of the messages I read yesterday resonated with me in ways I hadn’t noticed before now. The photographs, especially those of Lee’s young great-nieces and great-nephews, were revelatory. In my mind’s eye, I see them growing up. For me, these photos underscore the ever-widening passage of time the living must endure after the loss of a cherished loved one.

Notwithstanding a few laughs or smiles, revisiting the site predictably was sad for me. Once my tears dried, however, I was glad I did.