In the early morning hours of January 3rd, 2015 my wife, Karen passed away from ovarian cancer. On this day, the eighth anniversary of her passing, I decided to repost this poem. While no relationship may be perfect, I’ve come to realize perfection is found in the things people share. Karen and I shared our love of dogs, so of course, in a dream, I met her as I walked the dogs, and one day I’ll meet her again, but when that happens, she’ll be the one walking all the dogs.
I thought to find you on the path between the heather patches. You were not there. I thought to find you along the roads from here to other places I traveled, but there were no traces. I thought to find you along the routes where I walked the dogs. Of course, there you were, ready to laugh and say they loved you best-- as you always did. Taking treats from your pocket, you fed and petted them. Looking up at me, you said I had more grey than last you saw, but it didn’t look bad. Your idea of a compliment, I know. I killed the weeds of anger over things like that. Now I must learn to trim back the hedges of grief. Get electric hedge trimmers, you laughingly said. Then whispered I should learn from the dogs and you’d meet me along the path between the heather one day. And that was all. You were gone.