By the time this posts, it will have been a year exactly since Doug died.
The picture to the left is one that his daughter just posted on her Facebook page. Carruthers noted that her love of fieldwork was inherited from her dad. I believe that to be true.
Doug told me he was a nomad and expected to journey throughout his life. Unfortunately, that wasn’t true in the last years or maybe it was. His death was a long journey, so much so that when he finally left us it was accompanied by not just sorrow, but also some relief. His end days were everything he didn’t want. It had been awful to watch the vibrant, healthy man I knew and loved become an invalid whose days centered on medical appointments and care instead of fieldwork and intellectual discussion.
Even so, I miss him. I miss his sweet spirit and optimism.
It’s been a rough year. Intellectually, I’ve known about the grief process since Psychology 101 way back in 1977, but until you go through it. . . I had thought that by now, I would be easy with the idea that Doug is dead. I’m not.
I loved him. I still love him. I think that’s the hardest part of the grief process — love continues even when the person is gone. I can’t tell him that I love him. I can tell the people he loved, the same people I’ve gotten closer to since his death, that I love them. So, I will. KT, Martha and Roy? I love you.
W. Va. Fur and Root 
Love you, my friend
And I love you.
Hugs, Connie. No words that will mean anything to you. But you made it through this one year. Stop and rest a bit, then step out into the next. Breathe, remember, and love. That’s about all there is, really.
Thank you, Grannysu!
…and we love you, too. My grief at losing Doug had begun to eat away at me, but it was being with you and Caruthers on our Southwest trip that began to heal the wound. Sharing memories of him with his closest family and seeing him taken ‘home’ to the places he loved made all the difference to me. Roy and I send our love and an abundance of hugs to keep close to hand whenever you miss Doug. X x Martha
You made me cry. Thank you, I needed a good cry.
sending you a big tittied hug from West by Goddess Texas
Hugs are always welcome, tits or no.
Sorry to hear of your loss… a year late I guess. Loved ones never really leave us, we just don’t get to see them for a while.
Thank you, Ron!