Yesterday was a surprisingly dour day. I thought I was prepared. I wasn’t. The anniversary of my wife’s death took most of the air out of my sails. Luckily, a coterie of friends stood by with words of love, and words of encouragement. Her brother texted as did others. There were calls. Misery had company, and it was greatly appreciated.

Then late in the afternoon I got a call my car was ready, seven days early. It was as though the universe decided I needed some good news. That high lasted until I got to the dealership to pay the bill and realized the universe was simply letting me know life was going on. There’s good news and there’s bad news. We got your car fixed early. You owe us this much in return. Get used to it. It made me laugh.

Now there’s today, the beginning of the third year. There will be music this weekend. And next week I head off to west Texas for more of the same. Those friends I mentioned, will be there, too. We will hug, and listen to the songs, and I will sing one or two myself. And the memories of loves lost and lost loved ones will be all around us and in the room and in our hearts. But even then, there will still be room for new loves in amongst the ruins, because love heals and it knows no bounds when it springs from a loving heart.

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