My stepmom (poor thing being in my blog twice now) said, “As much as I love talking, I just don’t have the words.”

Thank you. For saying that. Because those are all the words I need from you right now—as much as I love you.

There’s going to come a day (I suspect my father will go first, though I do NOT wish this upon you) you’ll have your own experience of losing THE MAN you found to be YOUR FAVORITE after trying too many others.

Until then, enjoy the fact that your life is full—if only in the center compartment. It’s weird how that can be true, and how at the same time, mine is empty.

I think I’m beginning to get the joke of life. Or, that it is a joke.

We keep trying to figure out the rules. There are none.

And, like when you tried to teach my brother Bill the card game Canasta, it feels like the rules are being made up as you go. Remember him screaming, “You didn’t tell me about the red threes!”?

But, it’s worse. It’s like the time Bill and I convinced your son John to cheat. We were all going to cheat against you, but Bill went out quick and John got stuck with too many cards counting against him. He was so mad! I used to laugh at his temper tantrums.

I’m throwing mine now. I tried to learn the game. I tried to cheat. I lost too many times. Finally, I thought I was winning, but it was GAME OVER.

I didn’t do anything wrong! Neither did Kevin. We loved. Then, he died.

Now, I’m at a loss. I’m on my knees. It’s good, since I’ve found yoga to be a more suitable sport after all those years of running.

Ease and effort. Leaning in and letting go.

Kind of like how you’ve been caring for me in my grief. Even without words, I feel your love.

THANK YOU, Mary Jo.