October 11th was the last day that we talked. He whispered, “Happy Birthday!” to me. From his bed, he watched me responding to people who were calling me to wish me a happy birthday, and I know he saw me trying not to cry…and he was trying not to cry. He was so exhausted; I think he really needed to leave us on that day…but he waited. He refused to leave me on my birthday. That’s how his heart worked. That’s how his love worked.

October 12th was the day that he left us. He slipped away while my back was turned, knowing that I could not bear to see him go. That’s how his heart worked. That’s how his love worked. And when I saw the peace on his face, I calmed my sadness so that I could wash his face and brush his hair and straighten the covers around him. Then I kissed his face and told him that he would always be honored and remembered…and loved. That’s how my heart works. That’s how my love works.

September 13th will always be a date that generates joy for me because I was most fortunate to have married Al on that day in 1994. We vowed to each other to always help each other to stand and to move forward…and we did that. We walked together through this life for 28 years, experiencing the good and the not so good times together. This year’s anniversary carries the fresh wound of Al’s recent passing. And I keep asking myself, “How can Joy be wounded?”. But there’s one thing I’ve learned for sure in this life, and that is that Joy can most certainly be wounded. I am often reminded of the refrain in Frankie Beverly’s song, Joy and Pain…and it rings so true.

Al lent me his strength and helped me to face my fears. He never showed fear, not even of death. And I will keep standing and moving forward in his stead. That’s how my heart and my love will continue to work, using the strength he left with me.