Chapter 1

It was never meant to be easy

It's been five weeks, two days, four hours, and ten minutes since she slipped away. Nothing about her no longer being in pain has lessened the sense of loss I've been feeling. The mere passage of time has yet to provide me with any substantial relief, not to this point at least.

My Kathy's gone. She's no longer here to give me even the luke warm comfort of her despairing smile. It hurt me so much when I'd watch her trying to gather together enough strength to even make that much effort. She suffered and there was nothing that I could do about it.

During the late stages of her illness, it was all about her. Now, I am determined to make the time I have left, about me. They say that this is a normal reaction, brought on because the surviving spouse has denied themselves for so long. I can understand how that could be the case, having given and lost so much.

We had fought the ravages of it together, for a decade, beating it back into submission before it returned a year or so later. After beating it back again, for the second time, we hoped we had prevailed against the disease. When it came back once again, we could only hope that beating it again, that third time, would have proven to be the charm. It didn't work out that way.

It came back with what could be thought of as a vengeance, so hard and fast the next time, that no amount of drugs or aggressive, wildly desperate, treatments could prevent the inevitable from occurring. Her death left my life with a cold empty feeling, one that seemed to tear right through my soul, twisting around, clouding up all my thoughts and memories of our many years together with the pain of losing her.

The hollowness I felt, right after she passed, had left me so numb and withdrawn that I started to miss the deep throbbing anger I'd been feeling when it became so patently obvious that the long trial was finally nearing

the end. That pain was my constant companion and the anger at the finality of death seemed to rob me of that one constant.

I missed it because, while the overwhelming anger had hammered at my senses during my every waking hour, at least then I knew that both of us were still alive. Right after she was gone, the numbness took over what was left of my world, shutting out everything. I had cried what I thought was an ocean of tears over the years and had none left when she finally passed.

It seemed like the anger had deliberately lain in wait, patiently choosing this worst possible time, compounding my grief by attacking any sense of emotional connectedness that might have brought me even the small comfort of the light, laughter, and joy we'd once shared together. It seems so senseless and disjointed looking back at it all. But then that is what they say death brings to the survivors, they are left to reassemble their lives from the shards left of them.

The only thing that kept me going was the memories of her telling me to continue on for us both. We had plans; ones that she never lived to see, for a life after all of the battles had been fought. There is nothing fair in life, and this was just another confirmation of that. No one, as they say, gets out alive; but the ones left alive, are less after the loss.

The rest of them had wanted a grave and a stone. I wanted ashes to place where she wanted to see. She gave in to their stated wishes, opting for the traditional, solely for the benefit of the grandchildren. As she let loose of her own hold on life, she was still thinking about them. She was giving in to their needs, all the time holding my hand, endeavoring to persuade me that this would still be all right.

Kathy, even in the throes of her agonizing pain, wouldn't agree to leave the house for hospice care, until after we put it on the market. She held on longer than anyone had thought she would when she had entered hospice. She still had the unfinished business of making sure that the house was sold. Each day I would bend down to get a kiss from her, and afterwards, that was always the first question out of her mouth.

This was the house the two of us had built together. While she knew I really loved it, she couldn't bear the idea that "our special place" might one day be shared by me and another. She wanted me to find another. She knew I could not and would not do that, holed up in that monument to her, that it would surely become.

Escrow closed on a Tuesday morning. When I told her it had closed, she smiled at me, then slowly closed her eyes, making that little satisfied sighing noise she always had whenever she'd managed to get me to let her

have her way with something she'd reckoned important. Moments later, she breathed her last, forever lost to me. It was just then that I first realized that I'd lost her forever. Forever was a concept we thought we knew all about, when we married.

Since her funeral, I have been staying with our daughter Cindy, her husband

Steve, and the grandkids. It's not a happy time for me, for all of us, not even as I watch the antics of the twins. Those two are into everything that can't escape from them. Their unbridled exuberance accounts for just about all the laughter I have, any longer.

Sam has found out that if he stays out in the yard, his fur is safe from their happy lurches. We got Sam after we started celebrating beating her sickness for the second time. He was every bit as bad as a baby when he was a small puppy.

I can't begin to tell you the many late night walks we took together, or the too many hours I took to spending next to him on the hard wooden floor so he wouldn't howl piteously every night. I had rarely been the one who'd gotten up with the kids at night, back when they were little, but I did it with Sam, continually.

Funny, how when you get older, you become willing to do things that you know you'd never been willing to do when you were younger. Funny also, that while doing these things, you end up smiling all the while.

I have been busy. I've been loading up the motor home for the last few days. Tonight is my last night here. My staying here has cramped the lives of Steve and Cindy for long enough. Besides, I made Kathy a promise to see all the sights she and I had always talked about.

The kids have been after me, worried about me being out there all alone on the road. I point to Sam, telling them that I'll never really be alone.

I get looks from Cindy, looks that tell me she is her Mother's daughter, but she manages to keep her concerns loving and civil. She's still worried about me being away from family. I have a cell phone, and a GPS that

speaks to me in a sweet woman's voice.

"What more could I want?" I tell her, putting on a bit of feigned Scottish brogue.

For our final night together before my next morning departure, we all went out for a family feed. All of us, that is, with the exception of Sam. His turn came when we all got back home when we presented his doggie bag to him.

The kids were happy to be out, and Chucky Cheese is a fine place to have a last family supper. The kids love it and it was busy enough that I didn't have to field any more questions about how, or if I was really certain about leaving so soon. I know their concerns were mostly due to their love, but I also knew it was time.

I had already come to realize that they, as a separate family unit, needed me gone as well. It was just hard for all of us adults, each of us seeing my departure as one more affirmation of Kathy's death. Sam wasn't that keen for the pizza leftovers, but he ate a piece all the

same.

We said our goodbyes and cried one more time together. I wouldn't be saddened to put an end to all of the constant reminders of what we'd all lost. It would be a new transition, but one that we would all be better for ... at least to my way of thinking.

I wanted to be on the road early and was planning to be gone before daybreak. I had always liked to get an early jump, and at that time in the morning it was certain I would be out of the traffic that never seems to stop, these day.

Cindy and Steve were up to say one last goodbye. A hug from Steve, then kisses and hugs from Cindy; and finally, Sam and I were in the motor home and on our way. Traffic getting out of the city was a breeze. By the time I stopped for my relief break we were one hundred and seventy miles away.

They actually had someone there who brewed coffee at the rest stop. I filled my own traveling coffee cup, giving them a couple bucks for the coffee and their trouble. Getting Sam back into the motor home was another issue. Size finally won out, but not before I got a full chorus of his pathetic howling and carrying on for a few minutes.

His going on like that had led to me putting in the CD of the three tenors. I had surprised Kathy. We had flown down to Los Angeles to see them perform. It was a long and wonderful weekend, a good memory, one I now cherished.

Their singing had Sam stopping his own noise long enough to try and figure out exactly where these new companions were hiding. I had found out earlier that when I faded the sound to the speakers he would go back and forth, looking for where the sound was coming from. It was a bit of harmless fun, and it kept the two of us occupied.

Cindy had already called me three times, and was doing that again as I pulled into the rest area to relieve the boredom of the road and the pressure from the coffee. She and I spoke for a few minutes before I made my way into the facilities. After expressing our love for one another I hung up and did what I needed to do.

Sam would have been more than content to run out in the fields and woods that bordered all along the rest area. My thoughts were much more along the lines of lunch. He would have howled for a long while if I had not made my way back to the refrigerator.

As soon as I reached over and got him a dog bone from on top of it, he no longer thought that his being back inside was an issue that needed to be howled over.

A hot cup of soup and a cold cut sandwich, soon to be followed by some cookies for later, served me very well for lunch. It was only a matter of minutes for me to get everything cleaned up and put back where it belonged, before I was ready to get back out on the road.

A knock at the door stopped me from finishing that. I went and pushed it open slowly, Sam standing behind me as I did. There was a young woman standing there when the door opened out. Her light blue eyes were wide, and her dark hair passed her shoulders. She had the face of an angel. She said something that I didn't catch, and started to push herself passed me.

My size would have allowed me to easily prevent her entrance. But for some reason I decided, instead, to let her in. Of course, Sam saw this as an opening, deciding right then and there that he wanted to have a bit more exercise. Quick as a shot, he scooted out, slipping between us.

She passed by me when I started out after Sam that hound would be the death of me and would be dead when I finally caught him. I muttered to myself as I took off after him. I spent the better part of that whole afternoon chasing after him. He was onto something, and would howl as he chased after it.

I was wondering what would be left in the motor home, or even if it would still be there when Sam and I finally returned to it. Whenever I started worrying about that though, Sam would start in howling again, and I would head out after him.

He was at the edge of the woods about three miles down the roadway when I finally caught up with him. I figured between all the moving back and forth, that I had gotten in my daily walk for a little over a week in just that single afternoon.

He was running around the bottom of a large fir tree howling and watching what ever was in that tree. There was something he could see trapped in up there, but I didn't see anything through the branches, when I looked up at it.

The amount of time I had spent chasing after him had me both angry and tired. On top of that, I didn't have the leash. In my haste to get Sam, I'd forgotten that back at the motor home. Sam was intent on staying right there at that tree.

At six feet three inches tall, I am too big to bend over and hold his collar in order to walk him back. The idea of picking him up and carrying him back, as filthy as he now was, somehow, didn't appeal to me right then, either.

I found a felled log near the tree and sat down on it, figuring that he would wind down at some point, and then we could head back. With the chance to rest, I wondered again about the woman back at the motor home. I worried about what she might be doing, but then, I forgot all about that as soon as I

began hearing a rustling sound high up in the tree that Sam was near. That movement had set Sam back to his howling.

"For the love of the gods, please stop him from making that infernal racket," I heard a voice coming from way up in the tree. This voice had a heavy accent. I guessed the speaker to be Irish.

"Who is up there?" I asked.

"I'm up here, as any fool could surely tell, but get that creature to be quiet, or they will find us for sure."

"Who will find us?"

"It won't matter who if he leads them to us," Sam was still howling so I took him by his collar and got him to be quiet.

"Thank the gods for small favors."

"Come down out of that tree," I said.

"I don't think I will," he replied.

I let Sam go, and he went right back to howling and circling around that tree trunk.

"Okay, Okay! You win, I'll come down, but first, have him be quiet."

I took a tight hold on Sam's collar, and he was quiet once again. There was even more branch rustling noises, starting high up in the tree. A few minutes passed, the rustling noise seemed to be getting closer, and then, a

tiny man, one no more than three feet tall, finished working his way down the tree. He jumped the last bit of distance to end up standing right in front of me.

"Why was he chasing you?"

"I don't know but he was."

"Who are you?"

"I'm called Jonas, what might your name be?"

"I'm Robert."

"Why are you worried about someone finding you?" I asked.

"Quick on the pick up, I see, and right to the point as well."

"I can let him loose again, if you decide you would rather not answer my questions."

"No! I took something, and they are bound to notice soon. When they do, they'll be coming after me."

"What did you take?"

"An amulet," he said.

"Well, dig it out for me to see," I replied.

He took something out of his pocket. It was attached to what looked like a silver necklace. The amulet had one series of blue and green stones that worked their way all around it, 'til they ended with a much larger red stone seated right in the center.

"Why did you take it?"

"Why? I took it because I had the opportunity to do so. I wanted to add it to my pot."

"Your pot?" I asked.

"My pot, are you daft? Haven't you noticed yet that I'm a Leprechaun?"

"You're not dressed all in green, and you don't even have a beard," I said in a mocking tone, hoping to match his earlier rudeness.

"Very funny, now if you will just hold him there, I will be on my way," He looked at me and was about to turn.

"I don't think so." I let my arm move forward and Sam moved up closer to Jonas, his teeth coming prominently into view.

"Please, Sir, careful you don't let that creature get any closer to me."

"I was thinking of letting him have you for his dinner."

"What would you take to simply let me go?"

"I'll take your pot, since you're nice enough to be offering." I gave him a bit of my Scottish brogue then.

You would have thought I was killing him from the way he carried on. If he was a Leprechaun I knew from the old folk tales that to was only a ploy on his part. Just as what I was doing was on mine. If he was truly what he claimed to be, he would have more likely chosen to die, rather than agreeing to give me his pot. I thought he could possibly be persuaded to give me the amulet though.

"So do I get the pot, or do you get eaten by my beast?"

"Give me to the beast if that's my choice then. My pot is worth more to me

than me life."

I let Sam go, and Jonas just barely got back up in the tree before Sam managed to get hold of him. Sam went back to howling again, soon after he had the little man treed.