In another Room

After my husband passed away, someone sent me this newspaper clipping about death, and how the person is still present, but has only, “slipped away into the next room”. I often think of this, and it has given me much peace. “I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged".

I recently visited my youngest daughter, a junior in college, and spent the weekend with her. As I watched her with her friends, I felt overwhelmingly proud. Seeing how she has learned to navigate life in a different city—without me and without her dad for the past eight and a half years—was both emotional and inspiring. She has been incredibly fortunate to surround herself with an amazing group of friends who love and support her, especially in her darkest moments. Just as she did in high school, she has found a community that uplifts her in college.

Driving to the airport on my way home, I found myself talking to my husband as I often do when alone in the car. I thanked him. I thanked him for continuing to play a role in our children’s lives in ways that may not be visible to most but are deeply felt by me and our kids. I asked him to keep doing his part from beyond, just as I will continue doing mine. I still feel we are a team in raising these amazing young adults. While they no longer need us in the ways they once did, his guidance and my support continue to shape them. Death did not change our partnership in that sense, and for that, I am profoundly grateful.