Around this time, I began to go through menopause. Oh my god, it seemed like there was no one else in the entire world willing to talk about it or admit it existed. I had to find books to read to learn what was going on. It turned out I had very few of the famous symptoms and sailed through the transition with minimum fuss.

In February 1991 Josh was laid off from his last job in California and Sarah's mother found an apartment in northeast Portland for them to return to in April. Excessive mothers, endlessly furrowing the massive heart - she and I hoped so much for them. My father's other sister, Mary, who lived in Portland left for Alabama to spend the remainder of her life with her son.

In May, I met a man who would become the last brief Relationship in my life. Bill was a newcomer to N.A., an angry Vietnam vet, and was going through a treatment center program with the V.A. in Vancouver. Leave it to me to pick a fixer-upper with issues. This connection would take my attention for the next few years before I was able to break it off with the help of therapy. He later married someone else, divorced, and returned to live at his mother's house where he was found dead in a sleeping bag from overdose. It has now been over 20 years since I last told a man I loved him. Though the door is still open, no one has appeared. Most of my friends my age have ruled out this part of life, but I have never given up the idea of The Companion.