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It’s the silly little things that come back to me. There is nothing silly about sickness. But maybe it’s being sick that makes so much of my life seem silly now.

For example, I bought at least a dozen beautiful bras at Boston Store’s closeout sale. I was always practical when it came to bras. Comfort and fit. That’s all that mattered. There wasn’t ever much to fill the cups anyway, except when I was nursing. Maybe I had a fancy bra then. I don’t remember. I might have gone without.

I don’t even remember how I ended up in the lingerie department buying bras, but I bought some and then went back and bought some more. They’re beautiful. But I never had a chance to wear them. I got sick.

I realized one day that anything touching my breastbone made me tense. There was this nagging, burning feeling, a sort of compression, like something was pressing in on me. I first noticed it riding my bike home from work. I thought it was my briefcase strap and kept fidgeting with it until I realized it was the bra against my bone that was bugging me. So now I have a drawer full of beautiful bras in the attic with price tags still on them. It made me sad to think about that today as we were having lunch together, and I told you so. I can’t help but think about these things.

I think about all the carefree Saturday’s we spent shopping and stopping to have lunch with wine. We could drink a bottle so easily, couldn’t we? And then such fun we had in the dressing rooms. I wish I had those beautiful bras back then! But you never seemed to care. I have always felt you loved me plain and simple. I never needed fancy underwear.

I’m sorry I got sick. I know I’m not so fun to be around now. I get so sad and I can’t seem to help it. It’s the silly little things that do me in. Half my hair seems to be gone, but it also seems to be showing signs of new growth. Still, that does me in at the end of the day. You know how I’ve always worried about my fine hair. About not having enough. And now I have half as much as I ever had and all I can think about is I wish I had the other half back and I would never complain again.

So here I am with a drawerful of beautiful bras I’ll never wear and I guess I should be thankful for the hair I have. I could have half as much!

I guess this says a lot about me. I’m sick and all, and you’d think I’d be whining about that, and here I am mourning bras I can’t wear and hair I don’t have, when I have life. And life is beautiful. Glorious. Just think about it!

Today out of the blue, I saw a little patch of purple crocuses popping up on the side of a brown grassy hill. One small patch that caught my eye. Then a line of daffodils in full bloom standing up through the snow. Twice, such wonders in one day. I stop to think about these things.

You said tonight you believe I am going to get better. That we’ll have twenty more years to live happily ever after. I was giving up hope and said as much. There’s no cure they say, I said. But you disagreed. It could disappear! I thought I’ve always been the one with the faith…

I guess I just wanted to tell you that I have never felt love like you love me. I don’t know why I bought those bras. We’re so simple, you and me. We just love. We don’t need Birthday gifts, Valentine cards, or Anniversary dinners. We just need each other.

When I said it was stupid I’d taken all those vitamins all these years and you’ve always told me so, you smiled and surprised me. “Maybe they kept you going longer than if you hadn’t.” And when I cried that you are right, there must not be a God after all, you, (stubborn, rational, can’t fake it when you don’t feel it, taking the long route to religion), were right, said that you hope you are wrong.

Do you have any idea how good you make me feel when you say little things like that even though I don’t show it? I’m stubborn too. I doubt you do know, so I just wanted to tell you that it’s in those moments I understand who God is. And what love is.

So, my beloved, maybe like the tiny purple crocuses in the big field of brown grass, and the daffodils bursting up through the icy white snow, I will bloom again too. Anyway, you sure make me feel like I will.

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