What is my greatest fear?
Not spiders or sharks or snakes (well, ok, maybe snakes a little).
Not public speaking like most because, well, I love being listened to (especially if they have no choice in it... mwahahaha).
Not dying because I've come to realize it's not nearly as bad as it sounds.
Not even being alone for the rest of my life. I have experienced aloneness and at least it's nice and quiet.
No, my big fear is none of the things that everyone else seems to worry about.
My biggest fear is one unique to me. It is a burden I alone must carry and it is getting heavier and heavier.
My biggest fear is that Craig, my Craig, will be forgotten.
It was actually a discussion about names that brought about this revelation last night. The conversation being - what does a widow do about her last name if/when she remarries? My immediate thought was, I am Emily Garvin now and will be forever. Why on earth wouldn't I keep that name? (and for those of you women who have changed your name after getting married you know how much of a pain in the arse it can be) But the debate around this seems to come mostly from the men - they all appear downright offended at the idea of a woman not taking their name or even keeping the former husband's last name as a middle name. I was kind of surprised at this response but felt very, very strongly about wanting to keep Garvin in my name.
So being the obsessive nut that I am I reflected and over-analyzed until it hit me why this matters so much to me. Keeping Craig's name is a tangible and public way of acknowledging him for the rest of my life, for as long as I exist.
He was so young. He never saved the world or made it into the history books. In fact, his one claim to fame was the way that he died. This means the rest of the world goes on without him, as though he never was.
I am terrified that I will be the only one who remembers him, the only one fighting to remind the world that he mattered, that he was important, even if it was just to me.
I was his wife, his other half, his twin. I knew him more intimately and more honestly than anyone else in this world. If I do not keep this memory alive, who will? Every memory I have, every story we shared, every subtle nuance on his face, the most intimate hurts and joys of his heart - I carry these with me. 10 years worth. These are things I cannot simply write or explain - there are too many and no words would ever be enough.
And that means he could fade into non-existence and disappear.
And this is something I will fight with every last breath in my body.
Because he was important and he did matter.
And he will always matter.