I went to a memorial service for a great guy yesterday. It’s the first funeral I have been to since Mr. Virgo died. I was a little worried that it would stir up bad memories but honestly, I remember so little of the actual service, there wasn’t much memory to stir. That’s the blessing of being in shock. And I’ve totally accepted that Mr. Virgo is gone and he’s not coming back. Yesterday’s service was beautiful. Great stories, lovely praises for a life well lived. Bob was the true example of living with no regrets and he was very well loved by everyone who knew him.

I went through the receiving line and my heart ached for his wife. The shell-shocked look on her face was all too familiar. She won’t remember who was in that line. She will remember those who stood before the gathering and spoke well of her husband. She won’t remember much of what was said. She will eat what is placed before her without tasting it. She will feel totally overwhelmed with everything that needs to be taken care of and she will appreciate her family and friends that help her, but she won’t remember exactly who did what and when. And she will cry. Lord, how she will cry. We cannot spare her of that. There’s no one who can do that for her. She is now a member of our club…one she never dreamed of joining. Or that it would just be four months after the diagnosis that she would be saying goodbye. Or that her husband would only be 66. That part was hard to look at. I know where she’s about to walk and it isn’t pretty. I pray for her strength. I pray she will let all these wonderful people who loved her husband help her through this. She will come out the other side a different person. We all do.

The most remarkable change I have seen in myself is a fierce determination to live every day of my life. Change is scary, but regret is scarier.