Letters and packages arrive on the days I least expect them, but right on time with when I need it most. Thank you for more than competing with the bills, and for lifting my spirits when finally I lay down alone at night.
A little over a year ago, when I was driving Mr. PNU back to his car after a Thai lunch he shared with me and another of his Ethics and Values TAs, he confided in me that when he wasn't teaching, and when he wasn't with his daughter, he lived a solitary bachelor's existence of weighted loneliness. I blurted something like, "Well then, you can hang out with me!" And though I didn't pursue more with him for a few weeks because, well, ethics, I promised the universe then and there that I would do everything in my power to remove that aspect from his life for however long I had the chance. Our courtship was short because we belong together. He's even admitted now, rejections to hard determinism and interventionist deity aside, that he's certain God was pulling strings to help move us toward each other. For both of us, finding this sort of companionship makes every heartache and all the loneliness beforehand make sense.
The stroke, however, still doesn't make sense. It is hard and cruel, and I'd like to say that because we have each other, the hardship is bearable. But, there is an irony in coming home to a bed occupied by pillows stuffed into Mr. PNU's t-shirts. My husband would be here with me if that were possible, and similarly I would never leave his side. Thankfully, there are good people, selfless people everywhere. And luckily, so many of them have my mailing address.
Thank you, each of you. Every single one.