Malaise is a word most of us neither use or can clearly define. However in a very loosely defined way it is a curse I have been living with for too long. I just didn't feel right. There was something hanging over me that needed to be finished. I was carrying baggage, a box full of grief. A box that needed opening and placed where she might have chosen. Today was the day. While we had discussed our desires on this event neither of us had chosen a spot or spots for our final rest other than the obvious, Rome.
That aspect was completed quickly. But, you can not carry a box of grief across the ocean. You must be realistic in a time that nothing seems real. So, while the box was open, it was only for a short time and nowhere near empty.
I was left with an uncompleted task and no desire to proceed, thus a malaise. Somehow over the past weeks it has seemed more difficult than before. Maybe because I had been so involved with just proceeding with my own disjointed life...or I simply did not wish to face it.
Today I got up, got the box out, opened it and left the house on a trek to find final spots of beauty to spread the mortal remains of my wife.
There will be no stone with her name and dates, but the things she loved and cherished will honored and graced with her presence.
The water, where she loved to be...
A playground where one can imagine her playing with all her beloved grandchildren...
The theater and...
the central point of our combined hearts and souls. Peace my love.
