A Mighty Fortress

Losing a spouse causes unpredictable behavior. After 25 years of marriage, my first husband, Chuck, died of complications from two lung transplants. In reaction to my loss of him - and it was a huge loss - and feeling vulnerable and alone, I married a man from Ghana.

After we suffered through immigration, he, Raxtus, came to the United States. We lived together for three months, and he left -- to Connecticut. Though not especially sad that he is gone, I have suffered a loss. All that I was hoping would come to be from this union did not materialize.

Prior to Raxtus's arrival, I made space for him: emptying drawers, clearing closets, and making sure the area around his side of the bed was clutter free.

Since his leaving, I find that I have literally built a fortress of books around my bed. The night stand holds two stacks of poetry and classics. These rise above my waist. Three sturdy stacks of big, heavy art books have grown past hip height in the uncluttered space I made for him. And on my side of the bed, I am guarded by two shorter stacks, only up to my knees, of smaller art, design, and architecture books.

I have plenty of room to get in and out of bed. I also have a clear space at the corner of the bottom of the bed so that I can kneel and pray for the strength needed to read

all these books and to be strong enough to, at some point, let them go.