Chimes, three years, still ringing

I've been listening to the recording Chris made Easter morning three years ago of the wind chimes on our porch, the chickadees, our rooster crowing and Gil's brother Bob whispering "how beautiful it is, and it keeps on going forever".  He was referring to the after tone of the chimes, but it comforts me that that was what Gil heard again and again that last hour or so before he let go into the beauty going on forever.
I've been randomly weepy today, unlike the last two anniversaries of his death.  This one feels different, as though I am letting go in a way I hadn't before.  I'm hearing the chimes and the birds in my life now, especially the cranes, as a beauty that rings and resonates through deep layers of my dreams and the air I breathe.     I miss him.    and he is still resonanting in me.   I taste food, feel music, indulge in sensuality as I learned with him.   His resonance is beautiful,  and it keeps on going, quieter, fainter, deeper,    forever.

Shifting

Something is afoot.  Not sure what but there's a wild rumpus going on in the backroom of my mind! I'm dreaming a lot.   And had one odd night of real insomnia.  I can begin to imagine what Gil struggled with at night.  I traveled cross country twice in a month and a half  and came back with new eyes. With the grace of friends I had put in new flooring and painted my bedroom, transformed  it, created a private beautiful space which alters my sense of the world each time I wake.  

I came home to a portable sawmill ready to transform the snapped and uprooted trees of last June's tornado into beautiful quarter sawn oak and cherry and walnut and locust boards.  Two days of hard work and the trauma of the tornado was released into potential of woodworking furniture making.  I'm exhausted but I can feel, I think I'm starting to wake up.  How scary is that?

Three Easter's ago Gil died.  Just three? it feels like ten, or just a whole other lifetime.  I found some pictures of Gil that I really like, had them printed up and find myself conversing with them from time to time.  His presence in my heart has settled down into an amalgam of the Gil I first knew and how he evolved.  But he is no longer omnipresent.  It makes me sad to write that, realize that. I visit with him every now and then, but it's happened, finally, I am living at the center of my own life.

What's happening? Where is this energy coming from? Am I in danger of taking on too much and losing my quiet center?   Because of the late snow/cold the trees haven't really even  budded out though the bluebirds have been back for a while arguing about who gets the nest box out front to rear their young in.   I'm watching the slow motion rising of the sap, the hum is beginning and I am shifting into whatever is next.   I just don't know  what it is.