This must be like what amputees go through. Scratching an itch on a part of me that is no longer there.
Fours years. I still have dreams you’ve come back to me. How many times have I looked up and said “What the Hell happened?”
They say “you never forget, but it gets better.” It doesn’t. You just deal with it. Some days I can actually not think about it. Not in September. But some days.
Attended a Peace Corps workshop the other day. They had a Clinical Psychologist make a presentation. Motswana lady. US educated. It was like she was channelling Jan up there. Afterwards I told her that.
I have no higher praise.
Man, I have to keep this updated! My name is Mike Wigal. Now I'm 64 and live in Petaluma, CA sharing an apartment with my son, Mick, and granddog Luquillo. I still travel a lot and ponder a lot. I hope to share this journey with you if I can get over my laziness and temptation to post my rapier-like wit on the hated Facebook instead of here. Welcome!
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