He was 77 and I, 62, almost a year ago. He was due to be transported to our hobby farm for palliative care for diastolic heart failure. We had had several hard years but the last two months had him using home oxygen and he got choked trying to eat which had us stopping by at the ER for an x ray. He was transferred to another hospital where he spent two weeks on a respirator but graduated to a regular floor and a stomach tube was placed to assist with swallowing until the problem was healed. So I was awaiting his transport to the farm when they called to say he had passed. We went everywhere together but he had to go without me. Fast forward to eleven months and I think I have about fully thawed from the shock by revisiting our last few years over and over again. I believe God has a place for the souls he made when they leave their body. It's like they are somewhere over the rainbow. But what about us that couldn't go and there is no place like home? We have abrupt new beginnings and truthful hope of asking our maker to make good on his promise to be a husband to widows.