I missed Paul so much that day that I wondered if it would be my hardest day.

I attended a conference in Port Townsend. I was reminded of being in PT many times for consulting or a conference and calling Paul to tell him I was on my way home.

Today, he kept coming into my mind as if he were still here and our life was 10 years ago, not now. Grief filled my chest, and longing filled every cell of my body. I left midday and sadly drove home.

Two hours later and all I knew was sorrow, missing Paul and all the days and nights we were together.

I do not remember a single day on which I did not want to be home at the end of a workday or conference with Paul, including that day.

Oh grief, why do you have to be so honest, so raw.

The Firsts

Life, even dailiness is full of first times experiences, nothing is the same as it was the time before. Every moment is a first.

Readers around my age know impermanence is the one certainty we have in life.

But I have ahead of me firsts that are the firsts because I am without Paul.

I do not remember a single presidential election day since Paul and I came together that we did not spend the night rooting for our candidates and staying up waiting for certain races to be called.

This last election night was the first in 54 years.

I was fortunate that a friend wanted to spend the evening with me. We were of the same political leanings, so we cheered and groaned at the same time.

Readers of this column know that I am more Democrat that anything else although I have voted for non-Democrats. No need to guess that I groaned more than cheered.

My side lost, and lost big!

By the time the win was obvious although not predicted, my mind was exhausted from seeing too many tiny, color-coded images of counties in Pennsylvania and Georgia, so exhausted I did not have enough energy left to groan.

My friend must have felt it too because she got up suddenly, put on her coat, gathered what was left of the great meal she brought, hugged me, and left.

I thought about Paul.

I could have thought something like I was glad he was not here to see the outcome of this election, but that would have been a fake thought.

I wanted him here with his wise observations and comforting hugs about our future.

Now what?

Like many, I am concerned about the policies that soon-to-be President Trump will be implementing. I have already written about his plan to deport 11 million people.

Like many, I am alarmed about the impact of tariffs on trade and the cost of imported goods.

However, what comes up primarily for me is what does his election and the Republican controlled Senate and potentially House mean for American women.

I am worried about the patriarchal position he takes to “protect women.” How will he interpret his role in any legislation that impacts women.

Sexuality and sex became a theme for Trump in the latter days of the campaign. Examples are his glorification of Arnold Palmer’s manliness and Trump’s feigning oral sex with a microphone in front of a large audience.

Disbelieving the latter example, I looked it up and sure enough Trump was having his way with a microphone.

I do not have enough imagination or the kind of creativity it takes to explain why someone would do that. What was the point?

The preoccupation is not good for women who want to be something other than a fantasy.

Trump has withdrawn from the issue of a women’s right to control their own body by passing it off to states to decide. I have no doubt now that he is elected, he will support whatever the Republican Congress votes which may well be a total ban on abortion.

I do not want to see the rights of women chipped away over the next four years.

I have made my points and as awkward as it is to do, I will transition to my next topic.

Thank you, Mike!

As many of you know, editor Mike Dashiell has left his position with Sound Publishing.

I owe Mike so much. About 12 years ago, he took the plunge and published a series of columns about health care in our community from this unknown, untested writer.

Following that series, I pestered him to let me submit more columns. He relented and soon with additional pestering, I was writing monthly columns. After more pestering, he allowed me an additional column in months with five Wednesdays. Finally, he again relented and allowed me to submit a column every other week.

Mike called me the featured columnist instead of guest columnist. It did not pay very well, but I was happy and rarely missed a column. I am proud to report that Mike only rejected a handful of the columns I submitted.

I do not know the fate of my columns under new editorship. I hope I can continue. If not, I will still have the joy and fulfillment of having been the featured columnist for the Sequim Gazette for over a decade.

Thank you, Mike, and please carry with you enormous gratitude for your support from one of the many who learned and benefited from working with you.

Bertha Cooper, an award-winning featured columnist with the Sequim Gazette, spent her career years in health care administration, program development and consultation and is the author of the award-winning “Women, We’re Only Old Once.” Cooper and her husband have lived in Sequim more than 25 years. Reach her at columnists@sequimgazette.com.