The house is quiet this morning. The daughter and her family pulled out yesterday at noon for home. I collapsed onto the couch and gave my body over to the allergy attack that blew in with the north wind. Watery eyes, runny nose, that sort of thing. After lying around like a lump most of the afternoon, I hit the hay and booked a solid eight hours of sleep. I still feel a little beat up this morning, but that will pass.

I’m happy the house is well decorated. The morning routine now includes turning all the lights that illuminate the various displays of angels and Santas. I’ll put up the nativity set and Christmas tree a little closer to Christmas, probably the week before. In the meantime, I have to do a bit of shopping, which given the state of things these days might be too late. But we’ll see. I’ve always favored a trip around the mall anyway, but that’s just me being old school.

Of course, I’m still getting use to the pervasive quiet that comes with living alone when one has spent so many years living together. But I assume that will come with time, or not. I just know life feels much more hopeful this year with all the holiday decorations in place than it did last year when I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. I think that’s a good sign, and I know the grandchildren enjoyed walking around the house and discovering all the places I’d put stuff. Which shows that life is for the living and even with the sorrow of loss there is still much to celebrate and ones to love.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale