The frogs are quiet tonight. Instead of the loud chorus that pulses during the first part of July, we are down to just a couple throaty croaks out back. It always humors me this time of year to hear the few remaining hopefuls out in the marsh. I liken it to the people at a bar during last call – still hoping to maybe, just maybe find a mate before closing. The bats are flying in the twilight and I can hear a quiet chorus of what sounds like cicadas in the woods. The house itself is dark. Except for the glow of the monitor, the only light is what is left of the day outside, leaving the world in black shadows and outlines.

James has gone to bed. His energy from last week and the week before seems to be waning; he is up later each morning and heads to bed sooner at night. He has even gone back to taking naps the last couple of days. There are other symptoms of some concern, ones his doctor has already prescribed some new medications to help with and some we will talk about more with her next week at our appointment.

This rollercoaster of hope and optimism followed by fear and concern seems like the general map of what is to come. This may be as sure of footing as we will ever feel we have and we are doing our best to help each other navigate this new landscape.

We have been sorting. Both of our families are coming for visits and some part of me thought it would be easier to go through some things now, to ensure they get into the right hands, but easier is a misnomer for sure. Nothing is easy. The process is certainly an emotional one for James, but it leaves many of the same questions for me – How do you detach your feelings from tangible mementos? We have boxes and boxes and china cabinets and closets and hope chests and trunks full of memories from our journeys through this world and yet, what becomes of them when we are gone? They do not hold meaning to anyone else. This process of letting go is emotionally draining, mentally crippling at times and heartbreaking at others.

As I sit here in this hour of twilight, knowing I cannot stop nor slow down the impending darkness, I struggle to find stability traversing this shifting road we are on. And yet, I am reminded by the frogs and the bats and the wind in the trees, that this is all part of the cycle. I am reminded to not hold too tightly to the tangible things of my life, but instead to hold fiercely onto the people, places and creatures that I have loved in this life, for it is that love, that will remain. Long after I am gone, after all my closets have been emptied, all my boxes sorted, all my belongings distributed to charity or even the trash, long after all my mementos have lost their significance, it is the love we have given into this world that will remain.

I am blessed by that reminder. I am blessed to have the love of those who came before me still within me. I am blessed to have the strength of that love within me.