Monday Morning, 1:16 am.

Friday was great. Bernie and I finally found an excellent Indian Restaurant right in Silverton. Who'd a thought? Its so wonderful. I say we go at least once a month.

Afterward we had a few cups of cappucino and then witnessed Farenheit 9/11. Im not sure what to say about that other than it made me feel really sick and scared inside about the Bushs.

Saturday: I did a major cleansing of my old kitchen fodder and totally cleaned the downstairs closets. Bernie and I hauled away 2 truckloads of unwanted stuff from my house. Its a great feeling.

Sunday: I think we've found the spot for our reception in Sea Girt. Bernie began tossing a lot of his unnecessary stuff. I felt really weird helping him dispose of his late wife's belongings. He would ask me if I wanted this or that...and it kinda freaked me out. I know its just "stuff" and some of the stuff was quite good. Like, I wouldn't allow beautiful crystal to go to Goodwill.

I don't know how to feel. Its just STUFF. I hate stuff, really, and I dont want to be disrespectful. I feel like I shouldn't have to make the decision on whether or not to keep his late wife's belongings. I feel like the bad guy. I told him I just can't do it.

Bernie is so wonderful. I was sobbing uncontrollably with confusion, and he just kept telling me he loves me with all of his heart and that there are no rules and no right or wrong way to feel. It is truely uncharted territory. Its not like a divorce situation, plus I have not hardly any experience with death. The only people I know who died were really OLD people that lived a long life.

Then I start to think of what Bernie went though and it breaks my heart. I can't empathize nor sympathize. I feel helpless. He has worked very hard to stablize his life for himself and Gigi. He is precious. My treasure. I am blessed to walk with him.