Today marks 8 months since Kate’s death. 245 days. It’s a Friday so it is also exactly 35 weeks. Every month the 18th comes and goes, and every month it is a hard day. I have dear friends, other widows, who remember me on the 18th and always send me a little note to let me know that they remember and they wish me well. I suppose others may think that it is maudlin to consciously stop and reflect on the date of the death of a loved one each month. At first I had no choice. The 18th came and I could think of nothing else. That was the pattern for every month, and to some extent it remained this month. But this month the 18th is a little different. This month has been different. Since Kate’s death I have often found myself wishing others peace in their lives. Peace. Such an Earlham thing to do, wishing peace. But the people I wish peace to are not people caught up in strife, nor people focused on politics and world events. The peace I wish for my friends and family is the calmness and freedom from turmoil that is internal- peace of spirit. This month, month number 8 has been about peace. I am sad and tear up often when I think of Kate, and when I speak of her which I continue to do with whoever will listen. I have nights where sleep is fitful and I lie awake in bed, startled by the nightmares, and not scared of the dreams but scared that there is no one to hold to make me feel safe. I struggle constantly with the decisions that have to be made and the guilt I feel about having a life. But somehow in spite of all of that, I have found some peace in my heart. I think that I can finally accept that Kate is gone and I have to live. I understand that the kids and I have lives to build. And we have tried to do that in this month. The hardest day of the month was the day that Andrew and I left for a vacation over his spring break. Planning, preparing and packing were hard. But loading only two suitcases in the car and preparing to walk out of the house was nearly impossible. Had I been alone I am sure I would have stopped and just stayed home, but with Andrew at my side I had little choice but to follow through. Peace. There was peace in that turmoil knowing that Kate would have wanted us to make this trip. Peace in knowing that I can help Alison and Andrew live in ways that she respected and wanted for her children. There was peace in Andrew telling me that he thinks of Kate and wants to live his life in ways that she would approve of. And peace in Alison letting me know that while she struggles, she too is moving forward in positive ways. A reading in church (John 20:19-31) prompted a sermon on peace this month. It caught my attention because I have spent so much of the month thinking about peace in my life and reflecting on why I choose to wish this for others. In the reading, the disciples are locked in a room, hiding out of fear and Jesus arrives and says to them not once but twice: “Peace be with you.” I think it is interesting that the disciples are locked in a room out of fear. I have locked myself in a room for many months, locked in by the fear of having to live alone after so many years being partnered. And it is a wish for peace that they receive, a wish that will rid them of their fear. It is that peace that I wish for others, that I have sought for myself and I have begun to feel. The month started, or the last month ended, with terrible struggles about what I was to do next. I couldn’t figure out how to live my life alone. I couldn’t figure out how to move forward without feeling like I was disrespecting Kate and our marriage. How was I to allow myself to be happy when I had lost the center of my world? At the same time I knew that it was appropriate and right for me to have a life. I knew more importantly that I had to find a way to move forward so that I could be a father to our children and support them as they deserve. Somewhere early in the month I began to accept this and began to feel the peace that I have sought. I think by Easter Sunday I could have honestly said had someone asked, that I had begun to let go of Kate. I think letting go was the first part of finding peace. Then on Easter Sunday, a reading in church said: Jesus said to [Mary], ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”’ I hope that it is true that by my letting go Kate has ascended into heaven which is clearly where our angel belongs. So, as I reflect on this month, I will term it the month of starting to find peace in life. And that is a very positive step. I need my family and friends to know that I continue to grieve, and that is a daily process in my life. Laughter while on vacation or trips with a friend to the movies does not signal an end to that process. It may not even signify a significant change in the process. I think laughter and smiles and new activities are very complex and difficult. Sometimes they represent an escape while other times they represent real moments of pleasure. At least right now they always represent something transient and incomplete. But they are also a start. A start toward whatever comes next. I remain lonelier than I could have imagined. I surprise myself regularly at the steps I am willing to take to stave off the loneliness or escape it for a short period of time. I crave contact and conversation and love any communication I have with anyone. I am so appreciative of the cards and calls that I get and I sincerely hope that everyone who gets in contact understands what it means to me. I need to be more outgoing and actively build new relationships. I rely on new friends in ways that surprise and please me. I am proud that I can survive. I need to see my children grow and succeed. They have both had wonderful accomplishments this month and their strength and focus continues to amaze me. They are the work of my life and I will always believe that I am the luckiest father in the world. I will continue my journey, and I wish for everyone else: Peace.