The years between our daughter’s death and my husband’s diagnosis passed as they always do. Bob took early retirement when he was 52 and now we could do anything we wanted to do. Given my introversion and my studying Vernon Howard, I was not moved to play any active part in the world.

Our son graduated from college and went to work as a medical transcriptionist. Being single, he always worked holidays. He knew the three of us would stay home and simply get through them the best way we could.

Vernon Howard’s wisdom permeated every cell in my body. I knew that he knew. But he used to remind us that none of us had gotten it and he was right! This was before the world was online and hundreds of people were claiming to have gotten it.

I didn’t know what IT was; I was content to study my actual condition on a daily basis. It wasn’t pretty. I was not much of a wife or a mother. I was a student and that filled my soul with purpose. It kept me inspired at a time when nothing else could.

I made copious notes on what Vernon said. I kept listening to his cassette tapes over and over. And Bob and I would visit twice a year. Each time was difficult for me. The students that lived in Boulder City were not especially kind to visitors. At times it felt as if they were hazing us. Once a year they had a giant yard sale and I went out there twice and stayed a week to help.

More than once, a resident student would hand all their duties over to me suddenly and disappear. And I would bravely take on the challenge. Sorting clothes into piles and then stacking them on tables. Tying pairs of shoes together. Boxing up stuff. I was terrible at it. And at night I would go to my room and cry.

Once a student told me that Vernon would be at the yard sale the next day and that I should try and be there. That night I had a dream. In it, my daughter and I were in a limousine. She begin to cry, saying she was hungry. I had no idea what the dream was about.

The next morning I went into the kitchen and sat down to eat breakfast. Vernon came in with a basket of blueberry muffins and said, “I always serve the people that work at the yard sale.” And as he stopped in front of me, I took half a muffin out and put it in my mouth. It was dry and it was a wonder I didn’t choke on it. I thanked him.

As I left and was going out the door, he came behind me and I said, “This is such hard work!” and he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Thank you.” And it felt like grace.

As long as I came out to visit, I would get hints that he indeed knew each one of us and how we were doing. He knew I needed that acknowledgement from him. His secretary told me that once she felt that she just couldn’t go to class. Then she heard a knock at her door and it was Vernon. “I just came to walk you to class,” he said. And that was how it went. We knew that he knew but that didn’t make things any easier for us.

Vicki Woodyard