It's been a year.

Dan Cambridge Bear Lake, Colo. 2009

I never really understood the gravity with which people mark the "anniversary" of their loved one's death. (I hesitate to use that word because it carries a celebratory connotation and believe me, I'm not celebrating). But, as I approached February 20, I can adamantly say "I get it!" No one really gets it until they experience it.

But, I'm not writing today to talk about me. That was simply to explain why I post a blog on the "anniversary" of Dan's death. (There's that word again. But I'll keep using it because I don't have a better one. If Dan were here, he would come up with it. Words were his life, you know. But, he's not here.)

Today I want to honor Dan. I won't get into his last moments, other than to say he left this world with as much dignity as he lived his life for 70 years. He never complained. Never showed the incredible pain he must have suffered. Never asked much of me as I cared for him. He left quietly, knowing exactly where he was going.

A few days ago, I told a friend and colleague that Dan and I had an incredible marriage for 30 years. She asked me what made it incredible. I described how faithful he was, not only to me, but to our children, grandchildren, friends, family, colleagues, and his spiritual life, . He was honest in everything he said and did. Throughout our 30 years, he honored me with respect and commitment and a love that I can't find the words to describe.

But, Dan did find the words. Years ago. Even before we were married. It's from the works of Carson McCullers. Dan wrote them down, tucked them away and I found them some months after he died. It was truly divine intervention that I came across this handwritten note. I'm certain he wrote it while we were dating, because there was a picture of my children (eventually to be his stepchildren) tucked inside.

What made our marriage incredible? Every single day for 30 years, Dan expressed this in the way he loved me. He never read it to me; never presented it to me. But he expressed these words, this sentiment, through his actions. Every day. For 30 years.

Thank you Dan for leaving this treasure to be found. I miss you.

All I had ever felt was gathered

together around this woman.

Nothing lay loose in me but was

finished up by her. There were

these beautiful feelings and little

pleasures inside me. This

woman was something like an

assembly line for my soul. I

run these little pieces of myself

through her and come out complete.