Today I managed to keep to a time-limit for signing petitions, etc. One of the things that I forwarded was the link that Ruth sent yesterday. If you haven't seen it, scroll back to yesterday and check it out; worth watching: deeply touching.
After caring for the cats and contacting the family en mass via email this time, I set forth with three quart-size Ball jars of chicken soup: The Chicken Soup Brigade.
I got to enjoy one drop-off and visit, then went on to the shul for a meeting of Jews, Christians, Muslims. (This is Boulder, so it is also possible that any number of these people are also Buddhists, Yogis or Sufis...)
Then the other two drop-offs and visit; what a pleasure---such fine and valiant women.
By the time I got home, it was dark.
I discovered, to my horror, that the garage door was open.
That means that it had been open all the hours I had been gone, leaving the house and everything in it completely vulnerable. (I discovered that snow had fallen into the entrance, and the door automatically opens again if anything is blocking where it would land: a caution against the garage door accidentally closing on a baby or an animal. It had not occurred to me to stay and watch, after I had pulled the car out, to make sure the door had closed properly; but it will occur to me now.)
I have now been home for over two hours, and checked the upstairs and the main floor---
I had not checked the downstairs---my beloved's domain.
So I interrupted this writing, and went downstairs, going through every room. His presence permeates every room: this is where he wrote, where he tended to email, where he gave spiritual direction on Skype; this is where he davvened every morning; this is where he napped in the afternoon; this is where he met with individuals, with couples, with groups.
I sat in his davvenen room and spoke to him aloud, and cried, and missed him, and loved him and thanked him.
Surely it is by virtue of his merit in this lifetime that this house remained completely inviolable and safe for the many hours I was absent with the garage door open to the wind and the world.
I am very very grateful.