Gee, I try to keep a positive outlook on Life After Frank. But it's totally not the same, and this time a year ago, when we were traveling to Togus VA Hospital weekly for his chemotherapy, was totally not the same from the previous summer -- when we had no idea a tumor was about to take over, then away, his life.
So now I have moved on enough, to have moved houses. I'm still settling in this one, which is far smaller than the Machias one. I still have far too much stuff for one person, or for a solo life that has yet to reveal how it will unfold. As I unpack boxes, I come across too many things from Frank. And I tear up each time I see a note in his handwriting. It doesn't matter what he was making a note about; it's the handwriting that gets me. I have thrown away a lot of "stuff" -- but I can say that in these five months, I have yet to throw away any image of his handwriting. It's too soon, still.
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