Three Julys

Two years ago

We continue to live day-to-day. David has severe throat pain and can't eat or drink anything but warm honey water, getting weaker daily.

Rockport 2017

Jim and I spent two days in Rockport on Cape Ann, (the other Cape), at a charming AirBNB. I had a ‘German Shepherd' hot dog at Top Dog (befitting the Hot Dog Queen of the East) and in the evening we heard David Deveau  in a piano trio concert.
Saturday we stopped in Gloucester for lunch at the Blackburn building, now housing the restaurant Halibut Point. Howard Blackburn was a Nova Scotian fisherman whose rowboat was separated from the main fishing vessel; he bailed and rowed for five days in the frigid open sea and survived by letting his fingers freeze in a curled position so he could keep rowing. Although he lost all his fingers and parts of both thumbs, years later he sailed solo across the Atlantic, twice (two times), setting time records.

Like the underground Lost River in Indiana, I can feel a quiet current of grief  beneath my day-to-day enjoyments. The memories of Julys past: 2014 with a cautiously tentative hope as we inched toward the 100-day mark after the stem cell transplant, 2015 as David got weaker and stopped eating, and 2016 with the anticipation of the first anniversary of his death.

Now, when I plan to work on my blog, the weight of those Julys make it difficult to start. So far I’ve been able to keep my pledge to blog every week. I appreciate you reading it.