John always teased me that I was a thorough researcher. He said that when the time came for me to die, if I was faced with two doors and one said "Heaven" and the other said "Lecture on Heaven", I would go through the one that promised a lecture because I would want to make sure I knew all there was to know so I wouldn't miss out on anything.
I'm afraid he's right.
I know soon after John passed away I started reading all I could on what it meant to lose the most valuable person in my life. I tried the usual grief books but found them lacking. Not one seemed to understand quite what I was going through. None of them addressed the depth of my loss. No one talked about the crying that seemed to come from the soles of my feet and the bottom most pit of my stomach, the anguish that resembled an animal more than a person. I didn't read anything about the magnitude of how much I wanted to die that very minute so I could be wherever it was that John was. Reading about when it was time to give away John's clothes and when it was time to stop wearing his ring only made me want to toss the book across the room. If the author had been in front of me I would not have been polite.
The only books that gave me comfort and still do are books that talk about the afterlife. I have been obsessed with books written by mediums and psychologists who have done regressions.
I know in my heart I will be with John again and I know he is with me still.