Today marks 4 months since Kate’s passing. As I’ve noted before, it seems like so much longer. So much has changed and it saddens me deeply that Andrew and I have created routines that are just ours. He should not have routines that do not involve his mother. I should not have routines that do not involve Kate. But routine has developed. It is a routine for me not so much of living life as of passing time. I am sure that Alison has done the same, although it is harder for me to see her routines. Each day I suffer through to get to the evening when I can be home with Andrew and talk to Alison. Each evening I suffer through until I can get to the weekend. Others complain of the weekend, but for me the weekends are the best part of the week. I can ignore all structure and just respond as the day unfolds with little planning. No one expects me to produce, no one asks how I am doing, no one cares if I move. As long as Andrew is fed, the weekends are a success. And, truth be told, we enjoy spending time together and we have moments of fun or at least enough distraction to avoid the pain. Grief continues to overwhelm me like a tidal wave, burying me under a sea of water that makes breathing difficult. For days at a time I am floating underwater, unable to extricate myself, drowning. And then the wave recedes, dragging me across the beach to the waterline, leaving me tousled but breathing. And I know each time that it recedes that it will be back as well as I know that when it returns it will also recede. I suppose in that belief that it will spit me out and leave me heaving on the beach I find the hope I need to hold my breath and survive. I wonder how long it will continue- a month? A year? I want it to be over. I want it to be 2010 and I want my life to be calm and manageable. I want to see my children and be able to know that they have survived and are prospering. I want to know that the love and direction Kate gave them as small children has nourished them and given them the strength they need to persevere. I find much of life intolerable. Everything leaves me upset. I am wracked by road rage and have to be careful how much I explode for fear of startling Andrew. I have no patience for the boredom and repetition of work. Fast food workers and store clerks would cower before me if I dared to speak what is on my mind. It all seems so useless, even meaningless. The whole world runs around like gerbils in a habitrail and no one knows or cares of the pain that is slowly killing others all around them. Men complain about their wives and women laugh at the antics of their husbands and they never consider how lucky their lives are. What I would give to be able to complain that Kate had bought another purse, or spent too much on the kids for Christmas. And the world remains full of people who are not wanted or needed, while those who are loved and necessary are taken away. One of the hardest tasks in my life right now is to grocery shop. No place do I feel more alone, more out of place, or more pathetic than wondering through a grocery store. I just want to scream at everyone- although I’m not sure what I would scream. So, I avoid stores and that means I avoid Christmas. With less than a week to go I have no real desire to participate. I’ve tried to shop for Alison and Andrew, but I can’t go in a store, and even pushing the buy button online is hard. The hope to see them excited as they open a present is the only motivation I have, and that has pushed me through to buy a few things. I think the thought of them not having a Christmas is enough to overcome my desire to hide. Being with supportive family members and too much chaos should help to ease the day. The University wants Kate’s office emptied out. I’ve made several trips, and I last an hour, maybe two. Poking through her career, looking at personal items and reading notes, messages and memos, I’m reminded that she did have an impact on students, and that she really loved to teach. Her office is full of material about how to teach this topic or that, case studies, lists of teaching tips, folders of exercises. I do believe that students benefited from having her as a professor. I’ve also been reminded of the misdirection of the academy. So much emphasis is placed on publishing. Kate’s office reflected that as I came across stacks of materials related to projects finished, projects in process, and projects planned. But the truth is, the effort is largely wasted. In a few years, with the exception of a stray doctoral student writing a dissertation, her writing will be consigned to purgatory. It will sit on shelves in libraries and computer files never to be read or considered. But her students will carry something of her throughout their careers- good or bad they were shaped in her classroom. What a waste that the focus of education is on writing something obscure that will be filed away never to have any real impact on anything. But, she was a good teacher. And through the generosity of friends and family the Catherine L. Tyler Memorial Scholarship has reached about ½ of its goal, and it will start providing scholarships to students in 2008 and continue to do so for years to come. Immediately after Kate passed away, I tried to invest in cleaning the house, getting organized, preparing to continue life. Now I find that while I want those things to happen, I don’t have the motivation to continue. I trust that someday I’ll decide that it’s time to clean the office, or straighten the garage. But that time is not today. Today seems to be the time to conserve my energy, talk to my kids, and be thankful for those who continue to call and write. I try to remember the good times that Kate and I shared and the legacy that she left. I don’t feel appreciative, but I know in my mind that I was very lucky to be loved and supported for so many years so completely. Someday, I hope to really feel that appreciation that today is just an intellectual footnote.