I’ve been thinking about the idea of glimmers—those small, often unexpected moments that bring a sense of peace, comfort, or joy. They’re sometimes described as the opposite of triggers. Rather than stirring anxiety or distress, they offer a moment of calm or connection.

What strikes me the most about glimmers is that seem to embody Bob’s personality.

For nearly forty years, he was my person. With him, I felt safe, loved, and understood. His presence brought a sense of comfort that I didn’t fully recognize until I had to learn to live without it.

But Bob also taught me to notice the little things. And now, so many of those ordinary experiences bring memories of him rushing back.

The warmth of the sun. As Bob’s health declined, he was often cold. He loved sitting in the car when the sunshine streamed through the windshield, warming him enough that he could relax and sometimes drift off to sleep. Now, when the sun warms my face, I sometimes think of him sitting there, finally comfortable. Such a small thing. Such a precious memory.

The salty ocean air. We loved the beach, especially Madeira Beach, where we tried to visit at least once a year. The ocean holds so many memories of Bob and Daddy. The breeze, the smell of saltwater, and the sound of the waves can take me back to moments I would give anything to experience again. Sometimes those memories bring tears. Sometimes they bring a smile. Often, they bring both.

The smell of freshly cut grass. Bob took tremendous pride in our lawn. He kept it immaculate, cutting and trimming while I weeded and tended the flower gardens. We were working on different things, but we were together, caring for the home and life we had built. Now, the smell of cut grass can bring back an ordinary afternoon that I never realized would become such a treasured memory.

A rainbow after the rain. The evening Daddy joined Bob in Heaven, a double rainbow appeared over the family house (the one that Mother and Daddy built in 1971). Our family found tremendous comfort in that moment. We chose to believe it was Daddy’s way of letting us know that he and Bob were okay. I know a rainbow is a natural occurrence. But that doesn’t diminish what it meant to us. Sometimes, the meaning we find in a moment is part of what makes it precious.

The familiar smell of a favorite meal. Even the smell of steak can remind me of special times when it was just Bob and me. 

There are so many memories attached to the senses. A familiar scent, a sound, a place, or a fleeting moment can bring someone we love close in a way that is difficult to explain. And sometimes, those memories arrive when we least expect them.