Chapter 26: Aftershock

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Aftershock



Only then did I realize there was something else I had better do. I didn't relish it, but it had to be done. Her parents deserved to be the first to know, and I had to tell somebody, just to have a decent chance to relax. I dialed the phone. It was 12:30 A.M.
"Hello?"
"Dad, Jim."
"Yes, Jim."
"Dad, are you sitting down?" I immediately thought, "Great intro, dumbbell!" But I had to be sure.
"What's happened?"
I could tell the fear in his voice. And at just that instant, mom picked up the extension. My mind was racing, and I couldn't back up the conversation for her. My thoughts were too far ahead. And even then it was hard to say it for the first time. "Linda's dead."
Mom went to pieces. I'd never seen or heard her ever cry like that.
Dad said, "Oh, no!!...How'd it happen, Jim?"
"Looks like she hit her head on the tile wall over the tub. The police just left."
"How long ago did it happen?"
"We figure about 9:45 tonight."
"Were you there?"
"No. I came in at 11:30 and found her."
"Would you like to come over and have breakfast with us tomorrow?"
I was still in shock. I mumbled something about going to work tomorrow; out of habit, I guess. Mom had regained some of her composure by then:
“You're not going to work, are you??"
Then it hit me. "No, I guess I'm not, am I?" And I immediately got hit again: "And it's Bad Red Day, too!!" I thought to myself.
"About 8:00 then?"
"O.K., dad. See you at eight. You better go sit with mom. I think you're going to have your hands full."
"Right. Goodnight, Jim."
"Goodnight, dad. Sorry to have called so late, but I just had to tell somebody."
"No, Jim. It's all right. I'm kind of glad you did. This is the way it should be. See you tomor-row."
"Goodnight, dad."
My hands still shaking from before the police left, I replaced the receiver and walked me-chanically back to my chair. Our chair. Every time we were both home it was her chair. And now we wouldn't be lovingly competing for it anymore.
“Our” chair was a wooden frame style, similar to many of the Amish pieces, with nice wide arm rests and an extra wide seat. It had a medium shade Walnut finish with well padded seat and back cushions. Very restful and comfortable, and I needed that now more than ever.
"The silence in here is deafening," I thought as I sat down. I picked up the Bible again and just let the pages fall open. "Okay, Lord. You know what I need right now, so You're going to have to show me where to find it," I said aloud.

Matthew. 9:22: "But Jesus turned Him about, and when
he saw her he said, 'Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath
made thee whole'. And the woman was made whole from that hour."

“AMEN!!” I yiped, excited. "That's right. She has no infirmities at all anymore. Must be nice." I smiled at the thought, and realized that not only was she not suffering anymore, and that she had no infirmities of any kind, including the seizures, but that she was better off than we are. We still have our infirmities. We still get sick. We're still killing each other in wars. And she's above all that.
Eager now, for more consolation or reassurance, I flipped the pages again. "What now, Lord?" I asked aloud. It felt better talking to Him openly than silently. It helped confirm to my mind that He was really there with me. I knew He was anyway, but this helped put it in perspective.

John. 10:10: "The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and
to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and
that they might have it more abundantly."

"Boy, I sure needed that one!!" I said. “Her life is richer now than it’s ever been before. ‘She deserves no less after everything she’s given me. Thank You, Lord!” I said just as openly, and aloud. I flipped a few more pages, reading snatches as I went, and stopping to pray every once in a while.
Around 3:00 A.M., I finally had worn myself out enough to start dozing off. Then began a cycle of dozing, waking, reading, and praying. Each time I started praying, I'd doze off again. At one point I remembered to thank Him for seeing to it, even in this way, that I relaxed enough to get some sleep.
Seven A.M. finally came. I found myself slightly torn between finally being able to sleep, and finally having something to occupy my mind; something to do. I got up, shaved, changed clothes (I'd worn the same ones now for 14 hours), and sat down for a few minutes.
At 7:55 I called the office to tell them I wouldn't be in. I figured on the reaction I'd get, but I hadn’t figured on how I'd get it.
"Mr. Workman's office."
"Muriel?"
"Yes."
"This is Jim Williamson. I...won't be in today. My.... wife died last night."
"You're kidding!!"
"No, I'm not," I said calmly. I knew she wouldn't be prepared enough to avoid a phrase like she'd used.
"I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to say that. It's just that it was such a shock."
"I know. No problem. I might be in later in the week. It'll give me something to do."
“Just call and let us know when you do."
"Okay, Muriel. And, by the way, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't spread the word around. I was looking forward to Bad Red Day myself. I don't want to spoil it for the rest of them."
"Okay, Jim. We'll take care of it."
"Thanks, Muriel."
"Goodbye, Jim."
"Bye."
A little nervously, I called Linda's office, and found myself going through the same basic conversation with her superior, Edith. Thankfully, Edith offered to see to the paperwork on Linda's last paycheck for me. "Praise the Lord!!" I yiped as I hung up the phone. "That's something I hadn't even thought of - and now it's taken care of already!"
Those slightly difficult jobs done, I drove over to mom and dad's for breakfast.
Out of courtesy, in case they hadn't yet composed themselves enough, I rang the doorbell and waited. Seconds later, the door opened. It was, appropriately, painted black. Had been for years. But I'd never given it a second thought. Until now.
"'Morning, Jim."
"'Morning, dad. Sorry I'm a little late. I had to call the office and tell them I wouldn't be in."
They were already eating. I greeted mom and Cork, and at mom's instructions, sat down at the table. I could tell she wanted no help. She wanted to keep busy.

Small talk during breakfast had been a real "pain". Now that things were winding down a little I felt a bit easier. "Best breakfast I've had in a long time, mom". I immediately thought: "Swell, do-do. Now you've brought thoughts of Linda's cooking to not only your own mind, but probably hers too." And Linda was a really good cook. I quickly continued with what I'd intended to say all along. Eggs and pancakes. I sure appreciate it.”
"Think nothing of it, Jim."
Dad and I went to the family room and sat down. I sat on the far end of the couch so I could rest my head in my right hand once in a while. A few minutes later, after finishing the dishes, mom joined us. Cork had quietly gone to her room.
Over the next hour or so we managed to quietly discuss the whole thing without as much of an emotional "problem" or "side effect" as I had anticipated. I told them the whole story; from the time I found her to what the police said would happen next.
Somewhere between 9:30 and 10:00 dad called Dr. Cardosi and asked for some tranquiliz-ers for mom and me. I thought to myself, "I don't really feel that uptight anymore. Last night? Defi-nitely. But now? Not really. Especially since I'd relaxed enough to doze off earlier. After that call he contacted the funeral home and arranged for us to meet with them that afternoon about 2:00.
Needless to say, when he returned a little bit later, from his trip to the drugstore, I took a tranquilizer, and within minutes was asleep on the couch, still sitting up.

Dad woke me about 1:00 or 1:30 so we could be sure and make it to the funeral home by 2:00. Only when I awoke did I notice how tense I'd really been. Suddenly I felt quite relaxed, but I was sore in certain places. And I immediately realized that the soreness I felt was in the muscles I had used to lift Linda's lifeless body from the bathtub the night before.

By 3:30 it was all taken care of. I was only too glad to have had dad there, though I still don't really understand how he kept going any more than how I did myself. Not with as close as he and Linda had been all these years. But he did it. And I don't know what I would have done without him.
"Well, everything's arranged," I thought as we rode home. "Visitation Thursday night from 7:00 to 9:00 P.M., the funeral service at 10:00 Friday morning, burial at 11:00."
"Have you told your folks yet?" mom asked a few minutes after we'd returned and again settled in the family room.
"No, that was one call I just wasn't in the mood to face last night. This one was hard enough."
"I can understand that."
I got up from the couch. "Might as well do it now. I'd rather do it by phone than face-to-face." "Funny," I thought as I walked to the wall phone in the adjacent kitchen. "The call I made last night I'd have rather done face-to-face. My parents (mother, anyway) I'd rather tell over the phone initially. Reminds me of calling to tell them we'd just gotten married 11½ years ago. Guess that all says something about my (our?… Linda's and my?) relationship with each of these two families, doesn't it?"
"Hello?"
"Mom? Jim. Mom. . . . . Linda died last night."
"Linda who?"
“MOM!!”
"Oh!..You're kidding!"
I chuckled at that one, but inside: "Sounds like Muriel all over again!" But, for just a mo-ment, there was a tinge of the old animosity. Too long ingrained, I suppose. I went through the same explanation I'd already given 3 times of how I found her and all the rest of it. That I didn’t mind. It still felt good to talk about Linda; about us. I don't remember much of the rest of that par-ticular conversation, though. It seemed too long no matter how I looked at it. I was just glad to get it behind me. I had to stop there on my way home, because I wanted to answer a couple piano questions I had in my mind. Where did I get them at a time like this? I had no idea. But I welcomed the diversion. And now, with the ice already broken, I felt sure I could handle that one. With His help, that is.
After spending a slightly subdued afternoon with Linda's parents, which included an expla-nation to her mother of the arrangements that had been made, and having a quiet dinner with them (about 7:00 P.M.), I arrived at my parents' around 8:00 or 8:30 that evening. Their greeting as I en-tered was casual and low-key, like I'd hoped. They were seated in their usual places in the living room, on either side of the mantel, dad by the kitchen door, mom by the front window. I wasn't sure whether mom would "make a big deal" out of it or not; I just hoped it wouldn't happen. And it did-n't.
Not only that, but mom gave me no hassle at all when I put on a tape of some of my (our?) favorite hymns. I thought for sure she'd say something, especially since mom didn’t trust any min-isters: "All of them give you the same sales pitch. They just want your money.” So that was why our church attendance as a family had faded out so many years before. But she said not one word!?! "Praise the Lord!!" I thought excitedly to myself as I knelt on the floor in front of the stereo, in full view of them both, singing along with every hymn on the tape. (I discussed this with dad last week (Sun. 12/12/99) and he said that for his part he just wasn’t sure about religion at all due to confu-sion. He was initially raised Catholic. Then when his mom died and his dad remarried they went to a Baptist church. Then when that minister left town with his secretary, deserting his family, they moved to a Protestant church. After hearing that background, I can’t blame him for feeling con-fused. JAW 12/20/99)
I didn't do any piano work that night (and I would find myself not doing any for the next six weeks). I did, though, walk down the basement and just wander, for about 15 or 20 minutes, with two or three thoughts constantly changing places in my mind: how thankful I felt about the magni-tude of my involvement in such an unusual hobby (“Thank You, Father, for the many items You've added to our collection over these 17 years"), and how hard it may be to get myself back on them in the future - because everything I looked at reminded me vividly and immediately of how she'd al-ways helped me any time she had the chance. How she loved them as much as I did. I looked at them, I saw her working away. Like that day in the shop in November, 1977, when the furnace quit. 20 degrees inside and she's cheerfully cranking away on a brace and bit, pulling tuning pins from an upright. With coat and gloves on, of course. "Remember that, Jim?" I heard myself asking aloud, somewhat reflectively. And very warmly. “And those sing-alongs,” I continued, still reminiscing out loud. A bunch of family and friends gathered around an old upright, taking turns doing the pumping. And whenever we reached a point where no one else wanted to pump, or wanted to but didn’t have the strength left in their legs to do it, Linda sat down and pumped the rest of the night without a problem. Those gorgeous legs also had a lot of power! And we often went till 1 or 2 in the morning, but it never phased her. Even the first time she went that long. When we first met Stan and Alberta Favret and their kids, through the player piano collector’s club, AMICA (Automatic Musical Instrument Collector’s Association). Mom and dad had invited them over that next Satur-day. The kids ranged in age from five to about fourteen. And they were singing songs written be-fore their grandparents were born, and loving it! And they knew the WORDS! Linda finished out that night doing the pumping, too. Till 1:45 A.M. And how, at 5 feet and ¾ of an inch tall, she could sit bolt upright underneath a baby grand and help dad and I, when he and I had to crane our necks, break our backs, or both, to do the same work she was doing. “That image you’ll remember for a looong time,” I finished aloud. (And I still remember it today. JAW 6/23/00)
I finally sat down at an upright and played "I Love to Tell the Story" and "How Great Thou Art" by hand. For some reason I just couldn't handle that situation at that moment. The pianos, her memories, and the hymns. I didn't go to pieces; I just finished the song and climbed the stairs with-out looking back. Those piano questions I had on my mind would just have to be answered some other time.
A few minutes after I got back upstairs, a conversational situation arose that I should have expected, but had totally overlooked. Probably because I had already considered the issue and re-solved it for myself. Only my mother didn't know that:
"Jim, why don't you stay here for awhile? It's better than staying in that apartment all by yourself."
"No, thanks, mom. I know you mean well, and most people do it that way. But it's not for me. Too much change all at once; too much upheaval in my daily routine at one time. I'd wake up tomorrow, wonder where I was, and when I realized that much, it wouldn't take long to remember why I was here. And I don't want to face it any way but head-on. Besides, that place is going to seem awful empty and quiet and lonely if I go back after the funeral, when things will consciously be more final. Tonight may not be that much easier, but if I stay there through the whole thing, I'll have a chance to get acclimated to that atmosphere while I've still (I guess) got a little shock for a cushion, and after 5 days of it, maybe going there after the funeral won't be quite so tough. But thanks for asking. I appreciate it."
"That makes sense, Jim. I wonder why more people don't think of that?" my dad queried, a little philosophically.
"Probably because they don't know the Lord like we...uh... I do," I thought immediately to myself. “Changing my life, and conversations from plural to singular is obviously not going to be that easy either.”
After refusing mom's offer about two or three more times, I left for home about 9:30 or 10:00 that night.
As I pulled in the driveway, my eyes instinctively glanced toward the front window of our apartment as always. Only then did I realize, again, that she was gone. She always waited up for me. So the living room light was always on. And even on the rare occasions that she went to bed before I got home, she left that light on so I could find my way around. Only it wasn't on tonight...
Entry into the apartment brought back all the emptiness and that deafening silence, and I immediately recalled that I had discovered her lifeless body less than 24 hours before. If I consid-ered mom's offer at any time, it was only then, and only for a fleeting moment. I still knew I could stay nowhere else.
As I proceeded to get ready for bed, the thought occurred to me that this thing just might wake me up in the middle of the night, and I intended to be prepared for that. I wanted the security of knowing immediately where I was if I awoke, without having to strain my vision to make out something familiar. So I found myself leaving a single light on in every room of the apartment. "Darkness is the Devil's workshop" must have been my thought at that point.
Before retiring, I sat down in that same chair once again, and opened the Bible. "I need to stay in touch with Him now more than ever," I thought as I flipped the pages. "What now, Lord?" I asked aloud. The pages fell open at John 14. My eyes became riveted to verses 1 through 3:

Let not your heart be troubled. Ye believe in God, believe
also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were
not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And
if I prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto
myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.


"Hallelujah!" I yelled happily. "I knew He'd planned it. It all just plain fit too well. And this confirms it. Lord," I began, quietly now, "like I said last night, I praise You for these events, but it is hard to do. And only You know how hard. I praise You for the fact that she is happy now, Father, happy beyond her wildest dreams. But her joining You leaves a massive emptiness in my life, Lord, and I cannot handle it alone. There are feelings, desires, and countless other things in Your institu-tion of marriage that are so beautiful, so priceless, that they can be found nowhere else. And frankly, I don't like being without them, Father. It hurts too much. It's too empty. But at the same time I know that since You brought Linda and I together -You had to be the one - we were both too shy to do it on our own! - any effort I may make to build a new relationship now would just never measure up to what we had. I'd constantly be trying to compare the new and the old, and it would never measure up. So I'd just figure it had to fail, and therefore, that new relationship wouldn't stand a chance. So Father, I loose to You, as of this moment, all efforts made toward a new rela-tionship. I ask in Jesus' name that You bring this new relationship, on Your timetable, in Your own Way, and that You keep me from becoming too anxious, eager, frustrated, or depressed as I wait. Give me the patience, understanding, and anything else I will need to await the arrival of the person You choose to fill this void in my life. All I ask is that You bring the two of us together as soon as You can possibly see fit to do so. Don't let me take this problem back from You and try to solve it myself. You have to do it, Father, if it's going to work. And the peace of mind of knowing that once we're together we'll stay that way, because You did it, is well worth whatever waiting, and other ordeals I must endure. I praise You and thank You for taking this problem from my shoulders and solving it Your way. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen."
Slowly, I closed the Bible, zipped the cover, laid it on the coffee table, and headed for the bedroom. It was 11:30 P.M.
"I still don't have the guts to sleep without all the lights on," I thought as I climbed into bed a few minutes later. "And with all the arrangements made, I don't have anything to do tomorrow. I think I will try going to work to solve that problem (of nothing to do). Good thing I asked Cork to take the clothes over to the funeral home... Still find it a real surprise the way that kid is holding up under this thing. I would have thought she would have crumbled a bit the next day, as close as they were. Then again, her dad held up today, too. This thing must run in the family. That crowd's got a lotta guts. Sure am glad to be a part of that!" My thoughts went to Cork and the clothes I gave her for the funeral home. I felt really great inside about the fact that Ida Chapter had given permission for her to be buried in her Associate Matron’s dress. She deserved no less than that. Since she hadn’t really had a real wedding dress, this dress was the most important outfit in her life right now, and knowing the Biblical basis for the organization, therefore the most appropriate for her to wear. “Thanks, Edna,” I said softly. I set the alarm for 6:30 A.M. and sacked out.

"That's right," I thought slowly. My senses were beginning to stir after the alarm awakened me. “She isn't laying there. And she won't be anymore. Praise the Lord!" I said, a little louder now. “That was the best way out of that depression," I pondered silently as I arose. The Bible says we should praise Him in all things. The good and the bad times. The thing is, He doesn't really care how we say it, as long as we say it. People could use it instead of an expletive and it would still be important to Him. But, said with the reverence I felt, it was much more effective and reassuring, at least to me. And it sure felt good to let Him take that depression away!
I reached for my Bible as I headed out the door about an hour later. I couldn't quite bring myself to go anywhere without it right now. I did a last-minute check to make sure all the lights were out, locked the door and headed for the bus stop. That felt strange, too. I never had to check the lights before. She would turn them out later.
I knew a couple of my fellow riders would wonder where I'd been yesterday. And at the same instant that thought crossed my mind, I also realized that I still didn't mind talking about it all. And not because I wanted to hang on to something, but because the Lord had taken the burden of the whole thing from my shoulders; and I was also thoroughly relieved that she wasn't suffering anymore.
At that point, I vividly recalled the discussions Linda and I had had concerning our Faith, how strong it was (and is), and how we actually laughed at the reactions we felt sure we'd get from people if something happened to one of us. How they wouldn't be able to believe how the survivor could remain so "cool, calm, and collected". "How ‘bout that, Squeek?" I asked aloud, laughing at the whole thing as I approached the bus stop. I changed my expression as I reached the corner. I wasn't too fond of them putting me away. "If they only knew..." I thought lightheartedly.

I was right. Three friends asked me where I'd been the day before. But the office situation was different. They already knew. And, even if they didn't, the atmosphere seemed weird, to me. The surroundings were familiar, yet I felt detached from it all. As though I was looking at the entire area from some other dimension.
As the morning progressed, I noticed I never did acquire that much "drive", but at least I had something to do. I was occupied. And I needed that. And I needed the support I got from my co-workers. From the time I arrived, at least one person an hour stopped in my office to express their sympathy. And yes, it gave me a chance to talk about her, because most of them asked. True, it was the same story over and over, but to me it just wouldn't ever get "old" or "worn out". I needed that too, I suppose.
Like I said, Tuesday (yesterday) was Bad Red Day. When everyone wore the worst looking (in design or coloring, at least) predominately red outfit that they could come up with. More than one year for this event I wore a bright red plaid sport coat I had that would have made Herb Tar-lich’s choices look tame. That day around here was Melissa Teichman's favorite day:
"Hey, JAWS, were you here for Bad Red Day? I didn't see you, and you weren't around when we took the picture."
"No, ‘T’., I wasn't here. My wife died Monday night."
"Gee, JAWS, I'm sorry. Nobody told us."
"It's O.K., ‘T’. I asked Muriel to keep it under wraps. I know what Bad Red Day means around here. I was looking forward to it myself. I didn't want it spoiled for the rest of you."
"We appreciate that, JAWS."
The conversation inevitably shifted to the same question and the same explanation. Again, I had no hesitation in regard to talking about it. And T's personality and sense of humor always made me feel better. "Like I said last year when you decided not to move out of state, ‘T’. - I have to ad-mit I'm glad you didn't - 'cos your fantastic sense of humor and that big smile of yours really help me when nothing's going right. I appreciate that, and I just want to be sure you know it."
"Well, JAWS, I don't think I do that much, but thanks for letting me know how you feel."
"Same here, T."
"See you later."
"Right."


Lunchtime. After I ate, I started rehearsing, silently, the Worshipful Master's part for the Master Mason's degree. John Dix (Brown) had asked me a month ago if I would substitute for him tonight since he hurt his back. I had called him last night, told him about Linda, and assured him I wanted to go through with it, no matter what he may hear from anyone else:
"Not only will it give me something to do, John (I can't help her by sitting home alone any-how), but it's where she'd want me to be. She knew the meaning of the institution, and what it stands for. And I can do a lot more to honor her memory by being there than doing anything else."
I had already memorized it. All I was doing now was a refresher course after the shock of the last couple days. Just to be a bit more sure. "Letter perfect...for Linda," I decided as I read.
Lunch hour went by; I went back to work. Still not much drive. About 3:00 I either lost in-terest, or at least the ability to concentrate on the work. So I told Paul, my team manager I wouldn't be back till Monday and headed home.
When I got there, I received the same reminder that Linda was gone as I had the day before. The door should have been unlocked, and the living room light on. Only it wouldn't be that way anymore. "It's still not that easy," I thought aloud, "but Praise the Lord." I unlocked the door and turned on the light.
After changing shirts, I decided that with lunchmeat after the meeting as usual, it wasn't worth bothering with supper. So I sat down in the chair and began reciting the Master's part for tonight to myself. That was my next “mistake". I remembered I was alone, and began reciting the part aloud, to rehearse the delivery as well as the words. And it only took a few lines for me to realize again why I was able to practice this way. I prayed for a moment then continued rehearsing.

I got the reaction I expected from my Lodge Brothers as we gathered informally before the meeting that night. All of them expressed their sympathy and assured me they'd help any way I needed it. The beauty, and meaning of our organization really comes out at times like this. I knew I didn't have to wonder about whether they meant it or not. It was a sure thing.
Well, the meeting came off without a hitch. I had the whole thing virtually letter-perfect, and I felt mighty good. Just before adjourning the meeting I informed the brethren of the visitation date and hours and the funeral, and thanked them for their sympathy and their help that night.
After a half hour of fellowship in the banquet room, and three ham-and-cheese-on-rye, I hit the trail.

"Eleven o'clock," I thought as I sat in the chair and picked up my Bible. “I'll never get any sleep right now if I don't let Him relax me first." Already having changed clothes was a help, but it would never be enough to really relax. "All the lights on, door locked, alarm set," I re-cited. "Okay, Lord. Do Your thing." I flipped the pages. Matthew 16:24,25:



“Then Jesus said unto his disciples, 'If any man will come
after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow
me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever
will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”

"And how!" I thought aloud. And then it happened. For the first time I can really remember, except for that Word of Knowledge not quite two years ago when He revealed Satan’s spirit, He spoke to me:

“Read these 4 passages I have given you in both of her services for all to hear!”

I shuddered. If He had ever spoken to me before, it was subtle. Suggestive. But this was overpowering. I could not resist it. Just like that day of my prom in the cafeteria when I proposed to her, only this one was spoken. Yet I knew it was Him and no other:
1. It wasn't my own idea. I've never liked being the center
of attention. Stage fright galore since I was a pee-wee. Don't forget
that 4th-grade play!
2. It wasn't Satan's idea. No way would he want to give others
the benefit of the Word - and least of all during services invoked with
the blessing of God.

"But, Lord," I pleaded typically, "I'm terrified of doing something in front of an audience. Where will I ever get the courage?" Then I realized how stupid that question really was. Even be-fore He showed me:

“I will give it to thee. Just remember: They will think you are
doing it only for her. But there will be many there who need desperately
to hear my words and would not hear them any other way. I shall
be with thee.”

"Okay, Father. I'm glad You're handling it, 'cos I just plain couldn't do it alone. Lord, this void I began feeling in my life since the night she died is getting deeper. I know there's a reason so I'm not complaining. And I know You've promised that each of us would never be tried beyond our limit, and that You know what our limits are. I praise You for that, Father, because my faith in You is the only thing that keeps me going right now. But I'm human too. And this void's cutting deeper every day. I ask in Jesus' name that You fill this void, with the woman of Your choice, and only Your choice. It's hard to keep from asking for an immediate response, but I feel led that that's the way it should be. So I place no restrictions on time, place, race, religion, or any other aspect of this new relationship You will bring. All I ask is that You do it as soon as You can possibly see fit to do it, and give me the patience and peace of mind to await that day. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." At that very moment I received another Word of Knowl-edge. And it was suddenly very obvious to me that He had just shown me that He really does listen to our prayers. He had waited for me to finish what I was saying before He spoke again:

“When you read these passages from My Word, they are to
be in this order:
Matthew 16:24,25; John 10:10; John 14: 1-3;
then Matthew 9:22.
And do not fear, for I shall be with thee.”

I was used to Him guiding me with those overpowering feelings, like when I admitted to Linda that I loved her, or when I proposed. But I was still getting used to having Him actually SPEAK to me. I had a feeling that one might take a little time to get used to, but I wasn’t about to change a thing. Because this is the kind of faith Linda had always had since she was a child; blind faith. Only now it was also the faith she had in 1977 when she surrendered to the Spirit. And now, with the deepest and most sincere love, affection, devotion and thanks I could possibly give her for leading the way, I now felt the Joy and Peace she had known since that night at the Luther’s, and I wasn’t about to change THAT. The nervousness from that latest encounter now subsiding, I quickly made it a point to acknowledge it: “Thank You, Father. Now it all fits."
I totally relaxed for a moment, letting my mind go blank. A minute or so later, I quietly closed the Bible, turned out only that one light and hit the hay.

I spent Thursday with her family. Having that time together seemed to be a lift to all of us. They felt closer (to her?) with me there, and it helped me stay relaxed and occupy my time instead of sitting home alone. I marveled again, at one point that day, how well Cork was holding up under it all. “They were almost as close as Linda and I were," I thought, amazed at her composure. "They spent every conveniently available minute together, for most of Cork’s life. And she’s not going to pieces. Gotta give that kid a lotta credit!!"
I left in time to change for the visitation. They picked me up a little later, and we arrived at the funeral home about 5:30.
We'd planned the visitation from 7:00 to 9:00 instead of starting at 6:00 because many visitations tend to drag on and on. At least they say it seems that way to the family. Yet as the two hours passed, I found myself totally at peace there, next to Linda, receiving a huge number of visitors. It was unbelievable. The line began at 7:00, and except for the Eastern Star funeral service at 7:30, ran uninterrupted right up to 9:00. Neither my family, nor hers, could believe it. Her par-ents were just overwhelmed that she had made such a huge number of friends, considering the way her earlier years had been before we met. But I wasn't. Because I know Who brought it all about. Praise the Lord! I couldn't help but feel very, very warm inside, and smile, when I saw how great it all made her mother feel. I could have stayed there, in that atmosphere that radiated His Peace and Love, all night long. (Soon after the visitation began I found myself wishing it had been set from 6:00 to 9:00. I felt so at peace there, I would have preferred it. And it would have helped that long line, too! It extended all the way through the room, through an adjacent room, and out the back door of the building - and just kept coming!)
A sprinkling of Eastern Star members had come through the line, among them the gentle-man who would be holding the State level counterpart to my office. (My office, that is, if I stayed in line.) A little before 7:30, I stepped into an adjoining room where members of the Star were lining up for the funeral service. I took my place in line, where I knew Linda would want me to be. Beside me, in Linda's place, stood her closest friend in the Star, Maryanne Hall.
I had obtained permission to read the verses from the presiding officer, Edna Armstrong, the Tuesday before, though at that time only 1 verse had yet been revealed to me. At the conclu-sion of the normal Eastern Star service, Edna indicated with a brief statement that I would read a passage.
"Okay, Lord. The last time I did anything in public that came close to this was that 4th-grade play. It's all yours," I told Him silently. I'll never know what combination of nervousness and emotion I exhibited to the others. As I read those verses though, I felt myself shifting from stage fright/nervousness into emotion. As I finished, I could tell I had reached a number of peo-ple. Or I should say He had. Silence pervaded the room for a moment, even after I had stopped. Quietly the Star members filed out, and shortly thereafter, I resumed my place at the casket for the rest of the visitation.
Naturally, my parents came to the visitation. “Out of courtesy only,” I thought when I first saw them earlier that night. At one point, sometime later, my mother came up to me as I stood alongside Linda’s casket.
“Jimmie, I want to tell you that… I just might have been wrong about Linda.”
I didn’t say them, but my first thoughts were “Took you long enough to understand, didn’t it, mom?” and “Mom, why couldn’t you have said that when SHE could have heard it, too?” Aloud, I simply said, “Thanks, mom,” and let it go at that. I just didn’t feel like it warranted any-more of a response. Too little, too late kind of thing. I know I should have been, but I really wasn’t in a forgiving mood just then.
(This spring I asked dad about what mom had said. I’d been wondering off and on if she’d said it just to try and comfort me. Dad said that the two of them had had an unwritten agreement: that they would not discuss my marriage, or that of my youngest sister, who had also dated and married someone my mother disliked. Dad said the he had not known that mom told me that until I’d told him just then, but reminded me that mom was never one to mince words; she didn’t hesi-tate to say exactly what she felt. That comment took my thoughts back to our wedding night and calling them to tell them we’d just gotten married. Remember when mom told me, “Well, you just remember: I don’t want her in this house”? “Good point, dad,” I said aloud.
“So if she said it, Jim, she said it because she meant it,” dad finished.
That’s helped a little, to know she really meant it, but it still feels like too little, too late. JAW 7/5/00)

Also during the visitation, I found many of Linda’s former coworkers, both from the pub-lishing company and NIOSH coming through the line. One of them made a point of introducing herself and saying how very close she had felt to Linda. I had immediately recognized the name. She was one of those I’d met in one of my few visits to their NIOSH office, and I’d noticed the af-fection between them even then. I thanked her for coming, and made certain to tell her that Linda had commented often about their friendship, which she had. I then said that I myself was highly appreciative of the friendship she’d had with all of them, and asked her to pass that along to the others in the office if she would. She thanked me for the thought and assured me she would do so. What was the greatest feeling I had about Linda’s friendship with her? It was the openly obvious reminder that, as it should be, race was never an issue with Linda or I in any of our friendships or acquaintances. This most gracious lady was black. “Praise the Lord,” I said quietly as she moved on.
At the close of the visitation I spent a moment alone with Linda. Yes, I missed her terribly. With the depth of the love we’d shared, I missed her to the innermost depths of my heart and soul. But this moment with her was not in sadness or mourning, but in peace, and contentment. She was happy now, beyond her wildest dreams. And I knew it. How could I possibly be so sure of her faith and therefore, her current situation?
Very easily, because it could be confirmed in many ways. Our being Baptized in the Spirit. Our full-immersion baptisms. Her “devotion to duty”. But the best confirmation of all had been written by Linda herself.
Satan had spent the better part of one day, a short time before his spirit was revealed to me by the Lord, keeping us "at each other's throats" over some relatively trivial issue(s), and the huge strain he had generated was showing openly on both of us. That evening as I returned home from either the Lodge or the piano work, she silently handed me a letter, and sat down in her chair. She had written it because she'd always felt she had much better command of the words she wanted to use on paper than if she had said them aloud.
I read in part:

My world is far off. Only I can see it now. God can, too,
I guess, because it's His world. It's a dream land where every-
thing is perfect. There's no one to fight with because all there is
is love. If you try to fight, you are loved until you can't take it
anymore and either start loving as well, or leave the Kingdom
of Love. That's my world and I know that it sounds like God's
Paradise. Unfortunately, I can't go there until He calls me so I'll
stop fighting until then. I’ll “Give Peace a Chance” according to
John Lennon’s song… I believe so much of what I read in the
Bible. I'm too dumb to think it could be wrong. So I pray a lot and
believe all that the Bible says about prayer: Example - 'Pray
believing and your prayer will be answered' - 'Ask anything in
My name of the Father and you will receive it.'.....Believe it or not,
I would give up all I have for you because I love you. I would give
you up only for the Lord. He knows that. I love you so much I can't
express it. If it would make you happy, I'd die. Please accept my
apology.
Love,
Lin


No doubt about it. She had it made. This kind of blind faith is why she was able to surren-der so fully to the Spirit back in 1977 and get her prayer language immediately when the prayer started that night at the Luther’s. And notice: even under the stress of Satan’s pressure the day she wrote the above letter, she was still working the title of a Beatles song into what she wanted to say. I said a silent prayer, kissed her goodbye (yes, I actually kissed her cold lips, willingly and mo-mentarily lingering, and for the third time that evening), and slowly left, though I didn't want to. No, I wasn't hysterical about leaving her behind. It’s true that I didn’t want to leave her behind, but I knew I had to. No, it wasn’t that; I just didn't want to leave that peaceful atmosphere.
(Reading the last two sentences of that letter recently as I assembled this chapter, and again as I reviewed it really tore me to pieces: “If it would make you happy, I’d die.” Words cannot ex-press the grief I feel as I read that, even now. And it’s been 19½ years.
The next event to take place that day is equally burned into my memory. This is one of the many conversations I had referred to in the Personal Note from the Author which began this book when I said, “The conversations between Linda and myself are word for word as they were re-corded at the time; the remainder written as accurately as memory will permit; and the strength of our love has made those conversations permanent parts of my memory” JAW 9/24/99)

Later that evening, as her mom, dad and I sat at the bar in the family room, the "Rock of Gibraltar" finally crumbled.
"I realized something last night," dad began. I could tell he was getting more emotional with each word.
"What was it, honey?" mom asked gently.
"I finally realized what it was that I saw Monday night." Now the tears really started. "It was.....Linda's soul. She ....was...saying....goodbye."
Saying those last few words broke the dam. The tears flowed freely now. He laid his head on the bar and openly wept. We said nothing; there was nothing to be said. Shortly, he had com-posed himself enough to finish the thought:
"She...she was telling us...not to worry...That she...is really...happy now. B...but I only wish… I'd known it then."
As he finished, I had a sudden feeling of being "alone" or "left out" come over me from head to toe. To myself I thought. “Why would she say goodbye to them and not to me? With that thought on the forefront of my mind, I openly cried now, too. "Why not me?" I finally sputtered aloud. Mom put a hand on my shoulder. That simple show of love and affection, sympathy and support felt great. The simple things again. Only it didn't really answer my question. And it had not been intended as a rhetorical question. I needed to know.
Thing was, the real support at that moment came from dad. As broken up as he had been just moments before, he was still able to look at me with an expression of love and understanding, yes. But this time there was something else in that look, too. A solid feeling of "I know why and I'll tell you when we're alone."

About 10:00, as he drove me home, my mind had gotten onto the same thought. It had never really left, I guess. I just couldn't seem to understand why she'd say farewell to them and not to me. After all we had meant to each other. The tears were flowing freely as I restated the ques-tion I felt into words. We were about halfway to the apartment. Once I'd gotten it out of my system into the open, and finished, dad began:
"Jim, I couldn't say this back there, around Ginny, and you'll know why in a minute. But Linda had a very good reason for what she did that night. You know how much she loved all of us, right?"
"Right."
"And how much she loved the Lord. Right?"
"Right."
“Jim, she told me a number of times how close both of you felt to Him.
"So?" I asked, not sarcastically, but rather with a sincere touch of curiosity and a genuine desire to know where this was leading.
"Jim, she saw a chance to help someone she loved one more time. She knew your faith could withstand her passing. And she also knew that her mother's faith is a little shaky. Has been for a little while. She knew a first-hand experience would be a tremendous boost for her mother's faith in the end. Jim, she didn't do it because she loved us more than you; you of all people should know that."
"I do, dad. But I think that's also why I wondered. You understand?"
"Yes, Jim. Just remember: She did it because that's the way she was. Always wanting to help people if she could, let alone those she loved the most."
"You're right, dad." And he was. "That's exactly the way she was. Looking back, with that knowledge, it all seems to fit. You know, the idea that she'd be that way right to the end. That sort of thing. With the zeal she had for baseball, for life itself, it really makes sense. And things like making me happy (remember that “devotion to duty”?), and the Chapter. We meant so very much more. It really does figure." I was really calming down, now. And it showed. But there was one thing I still needed to know. "Dad, how did you find all this out? I mean... how did you come to this conclusion?"
"I...um...didn't, Jim. It's eerie. You remember those few times you and Linda told Ginny and I about how the two of you were so close to Him that you had been ‘Baptized in the Spirit’, and Linda had a 'prayer language' and all that?
"Yeah. Go on," I urged him, as I smiled inside. I knew what was coming, now, and I was ready to burst with joy. But I couldn't show it. Not yet. He had to say it. For himself.
"Well, Ginny and I were both a little skeptical. Her more than me. You know how close I’ve always felt to Him, with Lodge and everything. But I still wasn't quite ready for that one. Anyway, um...I didn't figure any of this thing out. I mean any of it. Not only what it was I saw, but why she did it. Um...He told me. All of it. Last night. It's a great feeling, isn't it?" He shut off the engine after pulling in my driveway.
"Yes, it is, dad. Now you're beginning to find out what we meant." I smiled, thinking to myself, “And dad, I don’t think mom’s faith was the ONLY reason all this took place. Looks to me like He’s using it to get you a step closer to Him, and to the Spirit.” I didn’t say that aloud, though. Since he’s still tentative on it, it’s better to leave the timing up to the Lord. Only this time I felt sure it would eventually happen. I just wouldn’t have any idea how soon. But that was fine. It wasn’t exactly mandatory that I be aware of those details. I smiled inside, again.
"Yeah, but...why choose me? I'm not into the Spirit like you two."
Dad, the Bible says that He will make use of even non-believers to bring about His King-dom. So why not make use of His Believers as well? Let alone the fact that it lets us feel the satis-faction of contributing something worthwhile to this world."
"Right."
Now he was smiling, a little. "Goodnight, dad." I got out of the car.
"Goodnight, Jim. See you for breakfast tomorrow. Right?"
"Right. See you then. And thanks, dad. I love you. Pass that on to mom, will you?"
"Right."
As I slowly, thoughtfully walked up the front walk to the door of the building, he backed out and headed home.

I had breakfast with mom and dad the following morning, and rode to the funeral home with them in their pride and joy, the sleek, new black and red Cadillac. "That's very appropriate," I thought as we pulled in. "The first time this car's appeared in public; the only thing that would have been better would be if Linda had had a chance to ride in it. Silently, I prayed, "Father, I praise You for this timing. Somehow it means a great deal. In Jesus' name, Amen."
Some wires got crossed. We had the service a half hour early, but it was no problem. "Praise the Lord," I thought silently. "It was maddening at first that original plans were misunder-stood, but the more I think about it, it's better this way. And much better than waiting around for another half hour."
Pastor (Clyde C.) Miller arrived. We spent a few minutes in seclusion discussing Linda, the type of person she was, her personality, and any ideas I had for something I'd like him to say. After a short prayer, we joined the others.
As I expected, Pastor Miller's service was just perfect. "How else, indeed, with The Lord in charge and His representative also in the Spirit," I thought, thoroughly pleased. I could tell the Spirit was handling things. He spoke of her willingness to help others, and just as important, the fact that she never lost that childlike quality of expression which endeared her to so many people, and is always an open door to the Kingdom: "Suffer the little children to come unto me. For of such is the Kingdom of God."
The first time he prayed my hands went straight up in praise. And I suddenly realized that I didn't care anymore who saw me do it. So, without hesitation, I continued to do it for the remain-ing prayers in the service. I couldn't believe how much better I felt as the service progressed, and I realized how her passing really had opened the door for me. "Hallelujah!" I yelled inside. That's how filled I was with His Joy, Love, and Peace.
As Pastor Miller concluded, he introduced me, and I went forward to the podium and read the same four passages as I had the night before. They had deeper meaning the second time around. They hit home a lot more. But I loved the additional peace they brought me. I broke up a little at the very end. My voice cracked a little, and I could tell the emotion I felt showed in my face. But I couldn't stop till I was through. Not just for her, though that was very important to me too; but His Word had to be heard. He was the real reason I was here. I finished. And I sure felt good when I got through. "Praise the Lord!" I thought as I went back to my seat. The same silence had remained as it had the night before. And I knew He had reached those He'd intended to reach.
After a final prayer the service ended, and I spent a few minutes alone with Linda, ending with one last farewell kiss. Yes, I kissed her cold lips again, even more willingly, and more lin-geringly this time because I knew it was my final chance to kiss her; I was determined to make the most of it and to remember it forever. I would have done so many more times, both last night and this morning if I hadn’t been afraid that people would think I’d started to lose my mind over her passing.
Moments later the funeral director removed the homemade recognition emblem from her Chapter dress, and the wedding rings from her hand, and returned them to me, gently closing the casket lid over her. I watched. I did not want the transition from open to closed casket to be a sud-den shock to me as she was carried to the hearse, and then to find myself wishing I’d taken a lin-gering, loving look at her one last time.
Then I received one of the best surprises I could have gotten at a time like that:
"Jim, may I serve as a pallbearer?" my dad asked softly.
"This is great!" I thought to myself. It took me a second to collect my wits after that one. "Sure, dad. I'd appreciate it. And, somehow, I think Linda would like that."
"Thank you, Jim."
That was the warmest feeling I'd had toward my dad for some time.
George and I took the lead at the head of the casket. We knew she’d want it that way. She’d always been able to talk to her dad about things more easily than her mom, so they had always had a special bond, a special closeness, and my position in her life needs no explanation. After she was in the hearse, I climbed into the Caddy next to her parents. Her grandmother and Cork were in the back seat. My parents followed us in my dad's Mercedes diesel. "I think they might be a little hurt that I'm not riding with them," I thought as we began the trek to the cemetery. "But I should be in the lead car, not the second. And we felt so much closer to her parents than mine. This is where I should be. This is where she'd want me to be." That thought aside, we finished the two-block jour-ney and entered through those ominous (to most people) gates. To Linda's final resting place.
With the casket in place, Pastor Miller spoke a few words, none of which I remember now, and ended in a prayer. Again I raised my hands. I must have gotten a broad grin on my face at that point; I felt one, anyway. Not because she was gone, not at all. But I felt so good not having to worry about what anyone thought about my hands in the air. Praise the Lord! Then I suddenly re-alized something that really struck a chord with my mind, and my heart at the same time. Today is March 7th. We met exactly 14 years ago tomorrow. Counting through today, our relationship lasted exactly 14 years. To the day. (Tomorrow would have been the first day of the 15th year). It warmed my heart to realize how long we had been together. It didn’t feel like 14 years, either. And that meant we had really had something that genuinely worked. Because, like they say, time flies when you’re having fun. And we’d had a ball. Praise the Lord! Yes, we’d wanted to grow old to-gether, but at least I’d have absolutely no problem ever remembering how long we did have to-gether.
With that done, each family member plucked a red rose (how symbolic and appropriate that was - and I was the only one who could fully appreciate it) from the ring of roses, and departed. Now it was over. Really over.

Sitting here now, I don't remember much of what I did the rest of that day. Only that her parents asked if I wanted to come over, and I declined, saying I'd better get started on going through the apartment. Not that I was going to enjoy the job, especially this soon after her death. But Linda was a pack rat. And she was also catching up on filing in preparation for my doing the tax returns. And at this point, only she knew where everything was. And only 37 days till April 15th.
Minutes later, after they dropped me off, I unlocked the door and slowly entered the apart-ment. This was the time I'd been preparing for all week. Now it was all behind me. 14 years of my life. Past history. The silence was excruciating. I took off my coat, sat down (yes, in our chair; somehow, now, I felt closer to her sitting there this time) with my Bible, and read those passages again and again. About 7 times. And I prayed. And not just because I felt I should. Now I had an additional, bigger problem.
"Father in Heaven, I come before You again, this time with two problems. This void I've felt all week is even deeper now, Lord, and I don't know how much longer I can hold on.” “Geez,” I thought silently, “now I know exactly how she’d felt when she fell for me before we met. She’d said her feelings got stronger week by week. Now I know.” Aloud I continued, “And Lord, I know You have a reason for it, and I know that one small part of that reason is so that I will appreciate the new love You bring me even more. But that doesn't make the current situation any easier to handle. I know I've placed no restrictions on the new love, that I know of, who she is, when she will come into my life, and anything of that sort, at least I didn't intend to. I ask that You remove them if I did, and that You give me the patience to await Your solution to this problem. Because You are still the only One who can give me a new relationship that I know will work from the be-ginning. And knowing that is far more important to me than having the chance to enjoy some fan-tastic search of my own for that new love. Yes, the search would be very meaningful and enjoy-able. But the end would still be a questionmark. One that might never be fully removed. I'd always wonder how well it was working, if it would continue to work, and if it would ever measure up to what Linda and I had. All that uncertainty is not worth the chance to be 'adventurous'. I'd much rather know the new love is a sure thing throughout my life. That’s why I want You to do it.
And now for the second problem, Father. It's just as complicated, and just as important. Which means it, too, requires Your solution, not mine. I'm turning all my problems over to You now, as I should have done long ago, but I still don't know how to fully surrender to the Spirit and allow Him to handle everything. I know that's what Linda did, now; I can see that with the way You have opened my eyes since she joined You. And I know that it's what I have to do. But I don't know how. I ask in Jesus' name that You show me what I must do to fully surrender to the Spirit as soon as possible, that my life, too, may be as complete in You as hers was, and is, and as it should be. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen."
I don't remember much of anything about the rest of that day, either. Only that I made a half-hearted effort to begin sorting through things in the apartment, and fully realized just how much of a mess the place was in. Organization wise, I mean. It was still neat as a pin, the way she'd left it. And that in itself was a pretty good, and painful reminder that she was gone. No. It was just a "mess" from a pack rat's organizational point of view.
The only thing I knew for sure by the time I went to bed that night was that I had an over-whelming need to ask Pastor Miller this Sunday about surrendering to the Spirit. Yes, she had led the way. But I still had to finish the journey.

I had been invited to her parents for breakfast again that Saturday. I arrived about 8:30 or 9:00. One look into the family room and I knew it had finally happened. Cork, still in pajamas, sat on the couch, openly sobbing on mom's shoulder, hiding her face behind mom's back.
"I was wondering how long it would take," I admitted to dad quietly as we stood in the kitchen, a few feet away.
"I was too, Jim. It hit her this morning as we came down. The finality of yesterday and the empty chair at the breakfast table I think."
"Right."

(Cork was 23, then, and I still marvel today at the fact that she was the last of us to break down over Linda’s passing. As close as they had been, I’d thought from the beginning that she would be one of the first. To this day I thank the Lord for the guts they had as a family since I’d first met them, and especially that week. Mom fed an extra mouth all week long without com-plaint. Dad helped with the funeral arrangements and Cork took Linda’s Chapter dress and other clothes to the funeral home. I doubt I could have survived as easily as I did without their most wel-come help that week. JAW 11/3/99)

I returned home about 10:30 that morning.
Seeing Cork's reaction earlier seemed to re-open the valve to my own emotions. No, I did-n't fall apart. But I did have a re-kindling of that overpowering need to know the cause of her death. "There are some things about doing it I don't relish, but it's intriguing to consider what I might find out before I'm through, and my mind won’t be at peace over this until I know," I said aloud, and firmly as I headed down the hall without hesitation.
I slowly entered the bathroom, carefully kneeling at the near corner of the bathtub to begin my detective work. I had purposely taken my showers at either her parents’ or mine all week to avoid "contaminating the area". Yes, I'd planned this from the time our chances for an autopsy ran out.
I began slowly, methodically scanning the entire surface of the tub and the adjacent tile, touching nothing until I felt certain I could do so without destruction of vital evidence. Gradually I made my way toward the opposite end of the tub, the end where she had fallen. As I went, I picked up a few strands of her beautiful, long, jet-black hair from the tub bottom. Since my search began, I'd been looking for any sign or clue, anything out of the ordinary, but one in particular.
About 4 inches to the right of the lower right corner of the built-in soap dish, on the tile wall, I found what I'd hoped for. Carefully examining the rest of the tub and tile surfaces for other clues, I finally reached the point where I could afford to disturb the area. Except for that one priceless clue.
Cautiously, I leaned over the side, into the tub. Now on hands and knees, I began scruti-nizing the area where I'd spotted it.
"Praise the Lord!" I shouted, excited, and relieved to no longer feel "in the dark" about her death. "She always stuck her tongue out between her teeth," I said aloud. "And that's where it was when I found her. Only I could not have known in advance if she'd bite hard enough this time."
There, beginning near that soap dish, on the tile wall, and descending straight down, stop-ping on the side of the tub, about 2 inches from the bottom, was a faint, pink stripe. I wet a finger and swiped at it. It rubbed off. “This should be the blood from her tongue," I thought. Remember-ing the discolored spot on her forehead, and the position her head had been in when I got her out of the tub, I took a measurement or two using my own head and body. Could I account for the posi-tion and length of that stripe?
Minutes later, my "logical mind" had pieced it all together. But I wanted confirmation. I didn't want to wonder if I was right all my life. I called Dr. Cardosi, telling the receptionist to tell him I needed to talk about Linda, and why. I knew he'd wanted that autopsy, and would be interested. He said to come in that afternoon at 1:30. Only death itself was going to keep me from that appointment!
I was 15 minutes early in arriving, and his schedule was running on time. I was the last one for the day (did he plan that?). Shortly, he entered the room.
"Hello, Dr. Cardosi."
"How've you been this week, Jim?"
"Dazed for most of it, but I think I'm coming out of it now. By the way, doctor, I want to thank you for coming to the visitation Thursday night. It felt good to see you, and I’m certain Linda highly appreciated it, too.”
“You’re very welcome, Jim. I wanted to be there. As close as she and I had been all these years I felt I needed to be there. Thank you for letting me know how you felt about my being there. Now. You said you thought you had some news about Linda I may appreciate."
"Yes, I think so. I think I've figured out how she died. And I'd like to know, for my mind, if it makes sense medically."
"Go ahead, Jim. I'd like to hear any ideas you've got. As you already know, she was a spe-cial person to me, too."
"Well, I found her about an hour and forty-five minutes after it happened. She was leaning over into the bathtub, her face pressed against the far side of it, her chin resting on the bottom. When I got her out and got a look at her, I noticed that she had been in the first stage of a seizure. Her face was frozen that way, with her tongue between her teeth as usual.
“Anyhow, the next thing I saw was a discolored spot on her head, right about here." I pointed to my own head, above and to the outside of the right eye, almost where the head curves around toward the temple. "Could a blow there be fatal?" I asked, intently watching for his reac-tion.
"Yes it could, Jim."
Relieved to get the answer I'd hoped for, I continued. "Well, this morning I noticed a trail of what looks like blood, a vertical stripe down the wall and the side of the tub about where she was laying. I figured the trajectory she probably used when she hit the wall. Assuming she was at least knocked unconscious on impact, she would have gone completely limp. So, with the friction of contact, her head would have been pushed back as the weight of her body pulled her down into the tub. As a result, her face would have rubbed the wall and tub all the way to the bottom. That trail of blood starts about where I figure her tongue would have hit the wall, and stops just far enough from the floor of the tub to account for her chin hitting bottom. The only other thing that bothers me is, her face was indeed pressed against the side of the tub when I first found her. So I've been kind of worried that she might have suffocated. The only thing that keeps me refusing to con-sider that is the idea that with the shape of her mouth because of the seizure, I can't quite believe the seal was airtight. Okay. That's it. What do you think?" A little nervously, I waited.
"Your observations are very astute, Jim. It doesn't answer my medical curiosity questions about that dizziness she had a couple weeks ago, but it certainly explains the actual cause of death to my satisfaction. Yes, a blow at that spot can indeed be fatal, and probably was. And I agree with you. It is highly unlikely that she suffocated. My opinion would be that she died on impact, as you suspected. You were a little worried about that one, weren't you?"
"Yes. I didn't want her to suffer."
"She didn't, Jim. I'm sure it was immediate."
"Thank you, doctor. What about the possibility that I might have been able to prevent it had I been home? That’s been bothering me as well."
“Well, Jim, with the nature of her seizures and the proximity of her body to the bathtub for impact to have been hard enough to be fatal, I doubt you could have stopped it. You would have had to have been right there with her because it would have been only a matter of seconds.”
“And the likelihood of my being in the bathroom with her is pretty slim at best. Normally there’s no reason for both of us to be in there at the same time that time of day.”
“Very true, Jim.”
I had to consider the possibility that the Lord also knew I wouldn’t have been able to be there with her and see it happen too fast for me to help without it being too much for me to bear under those circumstances. “The Lord was undoubtedly right again,” I said silently.
We spent a couple minutes discussing my current physical and emotional state after all this, then I headed home again. To this day, the idea of being so observant and accurate in that investi-gation and, most importantly, getting medical support of that accuracy, are beautiful thoughts. But the best thought of all is still the fact that she had not suffered at the end. Praise the Lord!

Later that afternoon, I got back down to the touchy business of sorting everything out. I had decided, a day or so ago, to start in the living room and work back, making the living room "liv-able" again, and at the same time giving myself time to adjust to the entire situation, and hopefully get it in perspective enough to handle the more personal job of sorting the more intimate content of the bedroom, where many more vivid memories awaited.

Sunday morning at last became a reality. From the time the alarm rang, I ran like a jackrab-bit, not stopping until I was inside the church building. During the service, Clyde caught me totally by surprise. He mentioned two of us who had lost our wives the past week, and asked us to come forward for a prayer. I heard some quiet gasps of surprise from the congregation as my name, and Linda's were mentioned. "It's a good thing I like to sit on the aisle," I thought as I rose and walked down front. I stood facing the congregation, just to Clyde's left. Inside, I deeply appreciated the recognition. And I knew it would bring inquiries from many people. But I, or should I say He, was prepared for that. He allowed me to see that He was opening a ministry here, but did not yet tell me what form(s) it would take.
The service ended at 12:15. After going through the usual reception line at the door, and asking to talk to him, I waited until the line was ended, then followed him around like a shadow until he finally had a minutes' rest and a chance to talk. I had decided that morning I would wait there as long as I had to; it might have been days before I had another chance to corner him, and it didn’t feel like my emotional position on this would hold up under that kind of delay. Like knowing the real cause of Linda’s death, getting my final surrender to the Spirit completed wasn’t an op-tional thing. It was absolutely mandatory, and highly urgent.
2:00 P.M. We went to the fellowship hall.
I knew he had to have seen the panic on my face, and in my actions. After rapidly explain-ing how open to it Linda had been from the beginning, I just blurted it out: “I don't know how to surrender to the Spirit!!"
Very calmly (I needed that!) he said, "Let's pray about it. I'll put my hands on your head, and if any sounds want to come out, let them, no matter how silly they sound." Silently I nodded, then lowered my head. Next I felt his hands take their place. And then the prayer began. I left my lips slightly parted. For some reason, I felt it would be easier for the sound to come out. Seconds passed by.
"Pater, pater, pater," I repeated rapidly. Then came a string of what might seem useless mutterings. But it sounded a bit too organized. Not understandable, just organized. A few minutes later the prayer ended. I was ecstatic. I knew I had surrendered. I had a prayer language!! My thoughts immediately went back to that night at the Luther's. And I knew I'd made it.
Do you know those first words you said?" Pastor Miller asked.
"No, I don't!" I said excitedly, unable to decide between laughing or crying, both for joy.
"That first word you repeated - Pater - is Latin for Father."
"Hallelujah!" I chirped. Like Linda, the only foreign language I’d ever learned was French! He smiled. We talked for a couple more minutes, then went our own way. Till next Sunday. He'd said I could call on him if I needed to talk. But I think as we parted with a brotherly hug, that we both knew it would be unnecessary. I had the best Guidance of all now. The same Guide that Linda had had since that day we were Baptized in the Spirit in January, 1977. And now it all makes sense. Yes, all of it. And the Peace I felt can only be described as indescribable. I didn't know what was coming, but with the Spirit for a Guide and Partner, I (We!) could handle anything, just as Linda and I knew that our love for each other could also handle anything. But I also knew that Satan takes his best shots at the strongest Christians. And he never gives up. Only now, Praise the Lord, I was ready for him.

This work is taken from “A Once In A Lifetime Love: An Autobiography of Two High School Sweethearts”, copyright 2000, as yet unpublished, by the same author.