Church

Church is a strong institution and has intimidated me the past four years. I have attended only two services since Joe's recurrence of cancer. First for a Baptism which by the way I cried through the entire service. Trapped in the middle of a pew with tears streaming down my face I made a promise not to return until I felt ready. The second was for a friend's Induction. I was stronger and only cried through the hymns.

Several weeks ago I returned to St. Peters in Charlotte where we attended before Joe was diagnosed. Proud of myself not a tear was shed. I was home free. Then came Communion and I was doomed. Gene, who officiated Joe's service, was serving. I stood in front of him, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a strong, full of love hug. A welcome back, your are in my thoughts, you are loved hug. The tears started. And the tears appeared again the next week when Rodney who sings in the choir and took care of Joe broke out of line to sing the last two verses of the closing hymn with his arm around us.

Those who respected our distance always had us on their minds. The hug, the last two verses, the welcome back is just another step of us letting go of the our hopes of what will never be again.