I am working on the memoir.  No, not the novel, not the novella, or even the book, the memoir: Round one of my life.  I did not know exactly where I left off in the memoir, but had I, I maybe would not have sat down with my laptop tonight at the local cafe.  I would not have embraced the tears that consume me when I think upon THOSE days.

The blog entries for this time period are early August 2008.  The first time on the ventilator, the risky transport to Johns Hopkins, the life threatening surgery that needed to be done to save him, the failed hopes of the surgical outcome, the waiting of the diagnosis, the diagnosis…and paralleling it is the immigration approval, the two months to plan a wedding, the coldest week on record for our wedding, February 3, 2007 when we tied the knot, the disbelief at having made it that far, the wedding night.  The diagnosis?  It follows our wedding night.  There’s ironic, and then there’s me.

I knew that the parallels of writing this memoir would be eerie.  I knew in the pits of my stomach that the details of Kevin and I falling in love would trail with the blog journey of Kevin’s illness in such an intricate weave of sorrow, and a passionate love story that it would rip at your heart.  Tonight, it tears at mine recalling such a deep love for one another that is being strengthened with every day spent in that hospital, with every disappointment, with his untimely death.

With immense joy comes intense pain.  I do not believe that you can feel the depth of one without having also experienced the pain of the other.  You can not appreciate each emotion to its fullest without experiencing both in such sorrow, and in such happiness.  As my soul was filled, my soul was ripped.  And now it’s time to rebuild.