It has been almost a year since Dave died. It is still hard to say that, write that . . it does not get easier. But I am proud of everything I have accomplished this year without him. Redid the basement room into a kind of Dave and Gwynne Museum. I love it. Posters of shows we did together, festivals we created, pictures of grandkids and trips we took. I have my crazy doll collection in there. Everyone hates it. They think the dolls are creepy. They were my ‘found’ friends. Most of them saved from something or someone. The last batch of four dolls I got were because I went to the Salvation Army and there were eight beautiful dolls at $10 each. This was back when I was still figuring out my money. I did not have $80. But I lifted one heavy doll and checked it over. Inside the waist of her underpants was a note stating who she was and what she was worth, They all had notes in the panties.

I had to have them. I went back on seniors day and bought one at 20% off. The next day was half price day so I paid $5 and then my daughter sent me $20. So for $33 I got 4 dolls worth $800. I went back to buy more but they were gone. It broke my heart that some old lady like me collected these dolls and when she likely died, her family dumped them at the second hand store. They are in my ‘memory’ room now with my other dolls I collected over the years. Home with Dave’s Beatle stuff and chess boards and insulators he collected. The room is a tribute with props from some of my plays; five 6 foot tall stand alone people I had created for my play Breadlines. An old phone booth Dave made for Two Feet and a Heartbeat. Copies of the four magazines we created together. Hundreds of pictures. Artifacts of our lives.

We did a lot Dave and I. Not always in harmony but always together in love. I floundered for a few months. He died and I was angry. I was sad. I was broken. I got up everyday and did all the things I had to. I even started fixing things I did not think I could do on my own. I started exercising more until I pulled a tendon behind my knee. That slowed me down for awhile but as I got better I got out again and started walking, doing more gentle exercising.Ive made my home cozy for my cat, my dog and me. I can look at a picture now of Dave and not cry. I miss him so much.

Life is so quiet. There is family but I don’t see them as much as I would like. There are friends but I see them even less. I kept waiting for someone to knock on my door with a casserole as people tend to do when a partner passes. Nobody came. I have relatives who live close, same town even, I have not seen since Dave’s memorial. They do not care to see me. They answer politely if I message but I no longer message. If they cant stop by with a damn casserole to see how the fuck I am doing they are no longer family . . .to me.

I started reading my thirty five years of journals. My kids do not want to read them when I am gone. What are they afraid of? I’ve written 6 books, 30 plays, hundreds of poems and newspaper articles . . .what do they think I am hiding in my journals? My life has been an open book. But I read them and it brought back not only good memories but the sad times too. I was an angry person or so it seems, in my journals. I also had a hiding skill I learned from being sexually abused as a child, I blocked things out. In my mind. There in my journals were stories I did not tell, pain I did not share and I am glad now that I am destroying them. My children do not need to read that. My unfiltered brain does not know kindness.

I was able to forgive Dave for past hurts. I was able to forgive myself for past anger. I found out things I had blocked from my good memories. Secrets were revealed to me that I blocked from my mind because they were too painful. I was a crazy woman. Maybe I still am. I am at peace now though. I am not angry with anyone. I am not sad. I wake up everyday and do my best to stay positive, hopeful and calm. I succeed most days.

Dave is not coming back. Nobody is coming to save me. I have to stay healthy, calm and focused. At the end of the day I am the only one who can control my destiny.I thank god everyday that even though it is two steps forward and one step back, I am going in the right direction.

Being alone is not so bad. I like my routines. I like to eat when and what I want. My pets are my best friends. I am not struggling financially. I figured it out. I am writing. I have a lot left to say. I dance in my kitchen pretty much everyday. i am letting go of my expectations of others. I appreciate what I am given and I don’t get angry over what I do not. I am very healthy and strong. At 76 I am not even on any medication. I think I finally have a good attitude. I have struggled with being happy in the past. Partly because I felt guilt over my past wrongs to others and there has always been that poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks living in my head. She’s gone.

More people I cared about are dead than I have around me now. That is to be expected. I hold allmy loved ones in my heart and will not forget them. I am not done yet. I am planning to redo parts of my book rampage; the pathology of an epidemic. I thought after my book there was funding for many groups to compile the list of missing and murdered women and children in Canada. Mary Billy compiled a list of 1800 names. I expanded that to 4,000. My list seems to be the most complete list there is and I quit doing it 15 years ago. I am going to bring it up to date. My work is not done.

I want to travel around and share my stories from my books Unlocking the Tin Box and Through My Lens . . .so many great stories to tell. I want to encourage others to tell their stories. We all have a story to tell. So, I am going to get back to work . . .happy trails.