Arjit’s widow wrote a touching post on the anniversary of his death.
I’m writing this on the 21st because I plan on hermitting away tomorrow. I’m at Monument Valley, on the Arizona–Utah border, which is an excellent place to fall off the grid for a day. Arijit and I were supposed to come here for Valentine’s Day last year, but he was having too many problems with his G-tube for us to make the five-hour trip. So I’m here now. It feels right, or at least as right as anything can feel this weekend. I go to beautiful places on difficult days because sometimes I need the reminder that life is beautiful. Arizona, for all its many faults, is an incredibly beautiful state. It was one of things about this place that Arijit and I both loved. So I bring him to all those places he didn’t make it to, because I see him in the landscape and I hear him in the birdsong and I feel him in the sunshine. I see and hear and feel these things, and I know he sees and hears and feels them, too.
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