I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with Bernie’s family back in Braintree, Mass. I refer to them as “Bernie’s family” as a way of explanation, but they are truly my family too.

To mark the one-year anniversary of Bernie’s passing. Julie, Jim, Brian, Kevin, Lauren and Kevin and I attended Mass at St. Clare church where Bernie grew up. Mass Intentions were dedicated to Bernie, as well as his parents and to Glenna, Kevin’s late wife. Being with the people that Bernie loved most, in the place where he grew up, was the best possible way to acknowledge the day.

Chica and I are still living in our cozy digs in Nevada City. I’ve been looking at homes to buy in Napa and even made an offer. That offer fell through and in retrospect, that was the best possible thing. I’m not feeling stressed or pressured to buy another house. I like where I’m living, and I trust that the right house will present itself at the right time.

Napa is where I want to be, and I embrace the saying from AA, “Let go and let God.” Speaking of, I just celebrated 37 years of sobriety on 11/27 which I acknowledged by attending Lady A, my home group in Oakland. The lengths of sobriety ranged from one day to thirty-eight years and the joy and hope in the room was palpable.

I’ve recently been made aware of two very close friends who have been diagnosed with serious illness. They have the support and love of friends and family, myself included, which I know first-hand is as important and crucial as chemo.

Having passed the one-year marker of losing Bernie, I feel a slight lifting of my grief, a new lightness. In the beginning, anything that triggered a memory would make me cry. Now, more often than not, seeing something that brings Bernie to mind makes me smile. I will still miss him every single day of my life, and I wouldn’t change anything about having known him and loved him.

My daily reading from yesterday did well at capturing where I am now in my journey.

Piece by piece, I reenter the world. A new phase. A new body, a new voice. Birds console me by flying, trees by growing, dogs by the warm patch they leave on the sofa. Unknown people merely by performing their motions. It’s like a slow recovery from a sickness, this recovery of one’s self.

-by Toby Talbot from Healing After Loss by Martha Whitmore Hickman