This December, 2007 began with an early Hanukkah date, then Christmas and Kwanzaa and will end as we begin a new year on Dec. 31. But for me, this was a particularly emotional season. My husband, unexpectedly, two days after undergoing a successful, complicated and lengthy surgery, died in mid-November. 

I’m convinced that the suddenness of death is no easier to bear or accept than watching a loved one suffer a disease that diminishes and decimates the body over a long period of time. Death is painful and few are ready or equipped to deal with it. When it hits you personally, you are thrust into a devastating time, regardless of what precipitated that death. You do what you must, but the emotional impact that comes with death cannot be described. Time is said to be a great healer but hours, days and weeks pass and you seem to be frozen in one zone. The emptiness and sense of loss at this time is unlike any other event in your life.

When death digs a hole in your world, family and friends rally to support you in your grief. Ed’s funeral/memorial brought the needed comfort of a full house, both at the temple service and in following days at home. There were folks I see frequently, but there were also many, many people I hadn’t seen as regularly. There were colleagues from my journalism circles, our mutual, personal friends, and Ed’s  business friends and "lunch buddies" who were with my son and me to share wonderful stories of time spent with Ed. There were people who drove from out of state and back the same day because they wanted to honor this vibrant, intelligent man - a person who was always upbeat, interested in others, a man who adored his family, loved his friends and business associates and was the unofficial "mayor" of his office building. He was a "story-teller," a political junkie and an ex-jock who bore bad knees as a badge of  achievement from his days of proven prowess in tennis and basketball. He was also a consummate sports fan, an enthusiast who enjoyed all forms of entertainment (except ballet, where he fell asleep on both of his visits), fine dining and the company of virtually everyone. He never met a person he couldn’t, or didn’t, find a mutual thread to start a conversation. 

My memories go back to when he and I were college students in Boston. From our first meeting through all our years together, we shared mutual respect, lots of laughter and total love. We were in synch in marriage, in life and in our daily routines. We didn’t just love each other, our son and our family and friends. We loved life, every day. Sure, we argued, but never about our basic beliefs – we  held the same views on religion, politics and social values. Material possessions were never our goal; good conversations, sharing experiences, opinions, ideas and thoughts were.

I will miss my husband every day for the rest of my life but I will also treasure my memories and always be grateful that in a world in which many people often stray away from one another, we shared so much for so long.

Dealing with grief is often eased by professional counseling. And grief sometimes leads to withdrawal from reality. For some, there’s an unbearable loneliness or an inability to accept the finality of a life gone. It’s hard to be positive when your loved one is no longer alive, but you must find your way along a very new path you have no choice except to follow. I know my memories will keep my husband with me forever and that will be my comfort as I face the time ahead.

Yes, there’s a "time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn..." It takes one day at a time, one task at a time and a lot of reinforcement from those close to you.

We need to believe that to go on.