Dear Family,
I look back on the Fall of 2017 and am enormously grateful for all of your love and support. It made a huge difference to have so many of you come for the memorial. All of you made it a very special time.
I am beginning to pull out from the most profound grief: I have gained back the 4 pounds I lost last year, which makes me feel much healthier; I am sleeping well; I have started dance exercise classes and will take some lessons in March—I have always wanted to take dance but it never seemed possible before; I am beginning to look at some travel that includes vigorous hiking in parts of the United States and Canada I’ve never seen before. One of the last adventures Kenneth and I spoke about was to travel across the USA by train and I may include some of that. And, as always, I am looking at ways I can learn new things about places and people, while visiting all of you along the way. If I can also do some active volunteering, that would be good, too. And, above all, I am enjoying the good company and fellowship of the young people who live with me in our home in Knoxville—not to mention Coco and Buddy. I am beginning to return to the many chapters of writing I have started on different aspects of the family history. The Lake Falls story of the Three Little Ones should be completed next week and it will go off to a publishing agent for consideration as a children’s book, together with fully restored photographs and drawings from that time. If you’ve not looked at the family history website in a while, there is much more there: bluenotegarden.com/family history. There is a password for the family chapters—let me know if you’ve lost track of your password. There are two permanent memorials for Kenneth, both finalized in the last two weeks: an endowed scholarship for a first-generation college student at his alma mater in Cullowhee, NC, at Western Carolina University; and a special collection of historical documents and photographs at the University of Tennessee.
Losing someone who has been so much a part of your life for 42 years is a powerful reminder of how easily we take everything for granted. Nearly 6 months after Kenneth’s death I am finally succeeding—sometimes—in letting go of my regrets on that score. Today I am happily reminded of the 42 years of roses I received, every single year, on Valentine’s Day beginning in 1976. Not long after meeting Kenneth, I went to practice on the Saturday before Sunday the 14th of February, and there was a single rose on the organ at Immaculate Conception Church in Hendersonville, NC. I still have its note. Ma had arranged for me to play and direct the choir as a temporary job while I visited the music schools in the area. I had moved up to Tuxedo in January with the thought that I would look for a graduate assistantship to continue studies in music. I did everything I could to discourage Kenneth from thinking I would consider a relationship of any kind, but things turned out differently by the time of our wedding in August 1976. All of you, my sisters and brother, were there for that, too. 
I am certainly not taking anything for granted today as I wish all of you in our family a Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you all more than you can ever know. Tede