Notebooks

C was always a list maker. She kept little notebooks laying around that she would jot things down in for later retrieval. Today, while in our closet rummaging around for a box of “thank you” cards, I came across one of those notebooks.

It is of the 5x7 format and is well used. The cover is worn and dog-eared, as though it had been in and out of purses, carry bags, and briefcases. Most of the entries are undated, though some are identifiable from their context. The entries are a real mixed bag of C’s stream of consciousness, her fixation with financial recording, notes on gardening and landscaping, dinner planning, recipes, and for some reason, the lyrics to Amazing Grace.

I stood there in the dim shadows of the closet, slowly leafing through this most intimate remainder of my love’s interests and thoughts when I came across this undated entry:

end of the treatment

John – what are you going to do with the rest of your life

trip – eat fried shrimp by the ocean

we made it happen

fulfilling my dream

“Make a Wish”

thanks to Mary – group

more beautiful than I could imagine

Collecting sayings about death/wishes

• outlive your memories of doing stupid things
• forget about learning tricky grammar rules – lay/lie
• live each day as if it’s your last
• can’t: be happy every day
  

The last line looks a little shakier than the rest, as though it was added later when she was frailer. Or perhaps it was emotion that overcame her.

All I know is that she was always surprising me. That was one of the secrets to our love – that there was always something around the next corner that could surprise and amaze. Maybe she left me these little things just for that purpose. She was like that.

P.