This one percolated a long time before I could finally post it.
I watched the Santa Cruz sunset with Esther Hagley, a very remarkable and radical woman. She died just two months short of her 101st birthday. At least, that's what her memorial bench said. So I sat there with Estie (really, what do you nick-name an Esther?), and caught the final rays of sun. I was making good on an overdue commitment to emotionally process the finalization of my divorce. I had forced myself to stifle any moments of dealing with the situation, and was now trying to wring out any residual stuff to deal with in the 48 hours I had to process. As intensely as I attack any given day's to-do check list, I was making myself finalize mourning, grieving, loose-end cauterizing. The previous evening, our Bible study group had in what can only be in God's eerily perfect timing been discussing the choice we have in choosing our thought patterns. Battle-field of the mind type stuff. On the 17, just past an accident on the on-ramp that slowed traffic up for miles, God dropped in my mind that rather than see this time as a focus on grieving the loss of my marriage, I should celebrate and be grateful for the ten amazing years I shared with Jeremy. He was - and is - a loving, fiercely loyal, and generous man. One who had a huge heart, who fought hard to be a man of his word, who held himself up to his own high standards while being patiently gracious to others that fell short. He loved well, he took trips with me and my grandma, never complaining when he was stuck toting the extra luggage or running blocks in the rain to bring the rent-a-car to us for front-door service. This was, and is, his true character. He got lost for a season, but I believe with all my heart that his wandering was not who he really is, and I pray every day that he believes in his true character again someday soon. I was greatly blessed to have shared a life with him, to set and achieve dreams with him, to have been his best friend. I had the amazing privilege to have been a part of his family, and I love them dearly and miss them dreadfully.