My hope is that, eventually, I will look at the puzzle and see that the missing piece has been filled with all of the beautiful memories that myself and the kids have of Teresa. Her beauty. Her sense of humor. Her courage. Her dedication. Her love. Her devotion. Her giving 100% to everything that she did. Her garden. Her cooking. Her gifts. Her work. Her caring.

Over the last three months different thoughts have hit me at different times. Some thoughts have hit hard and continue to reverberate through me today. Some thoughts sneak in, make a momentary impact, and then leave just as sneakily. Some thoughts seem to come out of the blue and tend to bring a line of thoughts with them, all connected and related but maybe not in order yet.

When I think about all that Teresa did at home and all the people she helped (or at least tried to help) at work I am baffled not only by how she did it, but how she did it so well. Teresa held so many roles (mother, wife, daughter, counselor, friend, etc) and performed them all so well.

As the boys and I continue to till the soil of our lives and continue planting new memories as a family we are discovering that, while Teresa isn’t here physically, her love – the nutrient that helped create such strong family roots for us – is here. Her love is with us and is continuing to help us grow stronger as individuals and, more importantly, as a family. Teresa’s love for the kids continues to give them the light and room that they need to flourish and find the space they need in life. Teresa’s love for the kids provides them with a trellis when they need help finding the purchase they need to continue their climb to adulthood. Teresa’s love for the kids is and will continue to be.

When I think about sitting at one of our favorite restaurants on our anniversary I wonder if I can do it. I wonder if I can sit there and eat a meal while staring across at an empty chair, the chair Teresa should always be sitting in. I wonder if this would be the right thing to do. I wonder if it will be the perfect thing to do.

Since that day I’ve dreamt of you a number of times. There is always a moment in the dream where I realize that I am with you and I’m overcome with the need to hug you and tell you how much I love you; to tell you these things and hold you so tightly so that you know, so that you know I always loved you and alway will. I cry every time because part of me knows this moment is fleeting.

I like to think, though, that there is some part of me that is actually hugging some part of you, and that you hear me tell you how much I love you.