Dear Peter

On Wednesday May 22,2024 my life partner, Peter, passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. He complained in the morning about not feeling well, I asked if he wanted to go to the doctor, he said no, he was going to lie down. When I checked on him two hours later, he had passed. He was 76 years old.

I didn’t want to believe it until the EMS confirmed it. Even though I Knew he had passed, some small shred of hope lingered, the power of denial.

This cannot be happening.

I called his children and cried on the phone with both of them…and still I thought maybe I’m dreaming this.

…that I would hear the screen door slam when he came in from the garden, the thud of his bare feet, the sound of him singing in the kitchen, opening a stubborn jar lid for me, cracking a joke.

The garden, the garden, the garden his sanctuary, his passion, his vegetable and flower children. At dusk I went out to the garden where he always hangs wind chimes for the plants. The air didn’t move, the chimes were still. The dogs lay in heaps, alert, awaiting him.

I can’t believe he is gone…I can’t believe he is gone…I can’t believe he is gone.

All I seem to do is fall apart. His two children got here the day after he passed. His daughter lives north of San Francisco, his son lives in Greensboro, NC. I have known them since they were little kids. They have been absolutely wonderful. They left Saturday afternoon…and I can feel the aloneness now, ready to join the grief.

The kids want to do a celebration of his life in the fall, harvest time.

I miss the little things…the sounds of him making coffee, singing to the dogs, his hugs, his love of gingerbread, his mile high tomato sandwiches made from his garden tomatoes, how he talked to the chickens, and the trees and the plants, how we would sit together by the creek and be still together.

I miss his stories…he spent seven years living in Mexico…his run ins with bandits, the cartel…peyote ceremony with a shaman…getting lost in the Mexican desert for 2 days…

I remember when we first met, in 1982, when we both worked as sales reps for the same company in the health food industry…we connected right away, became great friends…god we had some adventures together… doing EST training, discovering the Channelers like Ramtha and Lazarus, going out in New Orleans at night during a national trade show, driving, smoking weed and listening to music.

Last night as I was watering the garden, I had the momentary sense of his arm around my waist, as if we were standing there together.

God I miss his hugs.

I have moments of feeling so unmoored I might just float away or dissolve. And then I think about how lucky I am for having had him in my life, the blessings the blessings the blessings, gratitude that he passed quickly, he didn’t suffer a long illness. My ego creeps in, how could you leave me, Peter?

“Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.”