I am grieving the loss of my wife. At bereavement groups, we are encouraged to “journal” our actions and feelings. What follows is my first attempt at this.

About me: My name is Howard (Howie) Axelrod, and I've been an Ashland resident for 42 years. I recently purchased and had installed an 8-foot ADA-compliant bench at the corner of Spyglass Hill Drive and Trailside Way, in the Spyglass Hill development where I reside. In the early evening of July 28, 35 neighbors and close friends gathered at the bench for a dedication ceremony. The bench is a memorial and loving tribute to my wife of 33 years, Nancy Stoller Axelrod, who passed away in January after a courageous 10-month battle with pancreatic cancer. 

I placed photos of Nancy, a ceramic piggy bank that she made as a child in day camp, one of her favorite hats, and her little gold Buddha on the bench. I had covered the memorial plaque with colorful Buddhist prayer flags. I began a short dedication speech and spread Nancy’s ashes in front of the bench. My heart ached beyond pain in that moment, and I felt myself choking up and fighting not to lose control of my emotions. Thoughts raced through my head. Tears welled up in my eyes. “Was I not the most fortunate man on earth to have enjoyed the blessing of this amazing woman for over three decades? Is this what remains of my beautiful Nancy? Ashes? Why was she taken from me? Why did she have to endure such pain and suffering? Why was such a healthy, vibrant, and kind woman cheated out of a full life?” My mind was racing. I felt a deep and confusing sense of both devastating loss and intense anger at that moment. In an attempt to not make attendees uncomfortable, I somehow managed to compose myself and to carry on.

About Nancy: Nancy was a Pediatric Occupational Therapist who graduated from the prestigious Boston University Sargent College of Health & Rehabilitation Sciences and worked for over 35 years in the Lowell Public School System. She was a committed professional, held in high esteem by her colleagues and patients, and improved the lives of over 2,000 children and their parents during her career. Simply stated, she dedicated her life to the well-being of children.

During most of Nancy’s illness, she was confined to home and too sick to leave the house. Nancy adored the neighborhood children. I hired a contractor and had a little library built and installed as fast as possible in front of our home so that she could see it clearly from the window in the den. This was to be a “Children’s” Little Library. I stocked it with children’s books, toys, and sidewalk chalk. It was an immediate hit, and the neighborhood children flocked to it. Nancy derived great pleasure from watching them pick out and compare books. A few days after installation, the kids got busy with the sidewalk chalk and made a beautiful thank-you mural to us on our driveway. It was so touching for both Nancy and me.

Nancy was a remarkable wife, sibling, daughter, and friend to all, and always put the needs of others ahead of her own. I was always proud of her for being the selfless, caring person she was. For the past 33 years, my world revolved around her love and presence. Throughout those wonderful years together, I always felt that I was the most fortunate man on earth to be bonded to this remarkable and loving woman. We had an idyllic life together. Her loss has devastated me, and I struggle to get through each day now. The saying we hear in bereavement is that “deep love means deep grief.” Respectfully, reader, I can assure you that this can only be truly understood by one who has been there.

Nancy had many friends in the Ashland community who “stepped up” to support us during the dark days of her illness, and even now during my grieving. I am forever in these people’s debt for the love and compassion that they provided to us when it was so desperately needed. We could never have survived the darkness without the time, energy, love, and encouragement that they willingly provided. These wonderful and caring people will live in my heart forever, and I would do anything in my power to support them if needed. Nancy’s illness and passing have made it clear to me that she was deeply loved by so many people in Ashland.

My longtime friend Kenny screwed the memorial plaque onto the bench. Two of the neighborhood children volunteered to speak to the crowd and said they love the bench and that it has become their new gathering place. If a child was looking for someone in the neighborhood to play with, now he or she only has to go to the bench to find playmates 

Now each time I leave home and return and see the bench I think of Nancy and am reminded of how amazing and loving a life we had together, and that nothing can ever replace the home that we still share in my heart. Sometimes I feel joy. Sometimes I feel devastating loss. Sometimes I feel deep anger. I am a complex switchboard of emotions these days. The therapist’s diagnosis of this is called “normal.”

The location of this bench was intentional. Although the objective of its placement was to provide a place for the neighborhood children and parents to sit as they wait for the school bus each day, I am delighted that the neighborhood children have adopted it as their rendezvous point. The kids now refer to it as their “clubhouse.” As I drove by on my way home yesterday, I saw 10 neighborhood children at the bench, setting up a lemonade stand. I became a customer. Watching the children playing and enjoying the bench warmed my heart. This time, my emotion was joy. I believe that Nancy was watching.