It is the heart that senses God not reason.

Blaise Pascal

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Well, Sylvia you had a birthday yesterday.

You’ve been away a long time and I find that the years are harder now.  The shadows lengthen with the time.  The sun seems to filter mostly through the leaves and there is more cold than once there was.

No one stands with me as you did.  My steps seem more silent.

If it is the heart and not reason that senses the God who is Love, then it is the heart too that senses you.

I do not ever feel you are not here but I look for things to do to take up my time all the same.  There are fewer and fewer such things as the years pile up like kindling wood patiently in wait of warmth.  I am down now to just a few things – reading and writing, caring for others in their confusion or pain, Jared and his family, my friends.

I think of what is gained and lost, and gained in loss.  Life and absence make an odd equation.

I remember shortly after you died I went to your grave.  There was December snow on the ground.  It was deep and undisturbed.  The cold, clear air bit and numbed the senses – too frigid to soften the sun’s rays.  Off in the distance I watched a lone elderly man visiting his wife’s grave and thought: I have more in common with him than anyone my young age ought to have.

Now I am old and know that yes, it is the heart not reason that senses love, a love undiminished by time.

See, you are here today teaching me still.  How grateful I am.