Sunday Night Contemplation

I am sitting at my home desk after a 5 hour plus trip from Riverside to Scottsdale. I am beginning to acclimatize myself to the trip. I believe it's my fourth trip already between California and Arizona in a little more than a month.
There was a memorial service for my wife's uncle Ramon in San Diego on Friday. I wrote the life sketch for the program. I played the piano while the family and guests were arriving at the Chula Vista SDA Church. I sang "It is Well with My Soul" with my daughter Amanda. I had the memorial homily. And I also said grace for the potluck prepared after the service was completed. I would say I was quite involved in the service. I was honored. I did not know Penny's uncle that well. I learned more about him in the hour service than I had known in the 31 years of marriage to Penny. Interesting how that can happen. It is sad how you can whittle a man's life down to a few paragraphs. It doesn't seem right.
Now I am home alone for the work week. It's the first time in a while that I have spent that much time away from Penny. Penny was sharing with me yesterday how difficult it has been for her to adjust to my independent personality. This is not a compliment. The truth hurts at times. I was raised to become independent-- to survive. Such independence does not serve to create close bonds as a child, and so I didn't. It served me well while scarring me at the same time. I prided myself on my professional ability to remain calm and detached in any circumstance.
Then Penny arrived on the scene. She has changed everything. Little by little she has chipped away at my detached facade. With the arrival of each of my three children, followed by my two grandchildren, it would seem that my heart has thawed considerably. I can truly say that Penny is the first person I ever loved. Period. My love had been very imperfect along the way, but it was the best I knew how to give.
Memorial services tend to make me introspective. It forces me to contemplate the finite nature of life and ponder the question, "How will I be remembered when I am gone?" I want to be known in the end for the love I lived and the grace I gave freely. The one who is graced much graces much. I have a way to go.
Truth be told, I miss Penny immensely-- independence notwithstanding!