Jackie and I are moving AGAIN- a mere 20 plus times in almost 47 years, not including the times I've gone by myself, i. e., Vietnam/Korea. It is just across town to 150 Lombard, Telegraph Landing it's called. We are giving Rose the credit for it, just a few blocks from her Mom. A great place and working on my idea of moving to all the neoghborhoods of San Fran. Jackie and I are talking and suddenly, I'm on Union Street on the way to pick up Rose. I was going to the new pad but the car was going to Rose's. Yesterday, was a month since we had Rose's Memorial Service. Jackie and I have mused not a little about how often we think of Rose. I think it is the nostalgic grief that I've mentioned before.
I think Angelo Patri had it right: "In one sense, there is no death. The life of a soul on earth last beyond his or her departure. We will always feel Rose's life touching ours: that spirit looking out of other's eyes, that voice speaking to us, talking to us in the things she touched, worked with, and loved. She lives on in our lives and in the lives of all that knew her." The "poetry" of her life lives forever.
I can only relate nostalgic grief to Vietnam. I think of my buddies who died there and many who've died since and I get very sad. One is Phil Woodall. He use to call me all the time. He died last year from a massive heart attack. His mantra was, "everyday is a gift. I should have died in Vietnam and since I didn't, everyday is a gift." Well, I'm sad everyday about Rose. Rose was a gift.