Thursday, April 21, 2011


Do you know what today is? Do you ever remember?

We had plans, you know.

Last year was Vegas. You had never been. We were going to have so much fun. Shows and walking the strip and non-stop eating. How was I going to out-do that one? I was kind of pondering Disneyland. Don't act like you are too old for that. We both know better. You are fooling no one.

We had lots of plans, you know. Five year plans. One year plans. Next week plans. Hawaii for our five year anniversary. I just stayed at home instead. Big family Christmas. I didn't really see either family this year. Bet you never saw that coming. You'd probably be in your new job now. I might still be at E+. Enjoying my bonus. We'd have put in our new fence, finally. Paid off some more debt. We'd probably still be fighting over which cupboard the cereal should go in.

Sometimes I let myself fantasize that you chose this. That there was some sort of epic decision you got to make. Stay and struggle or speed on up to heaven and leave a better life for me. I imagine that you would have known it would almost destroy me but that I would somehow be better off one day. That it was some sort of sacrifice on your part.

But I know you know I'd have killed you myself for pulling a stunt like that, so there's no way it could have gone down like that.

I think I'm still just wishing there was a reason. Or some kind of choice in any of this at all.

Do you remember when we talked about dying? Sitting at our kitchen table. I was telling you which song I'd want at my funeral and you got huffy with me. I asked you which one you'd want at yours and you went from huffy to downright annoyed. You hated talking about death. Because of Fred. Today is the anniversary of his death too. Do you remember those kinds of things? I still do. I remember him for you. Just in case.

We agreed that if one of us was to go, it would have to be me. Because there was no way I could survive you going first. Even then you knew that it would change me. That the sadness would drown me. That I would never be me again. We agreed on that. AGREED. I promised I'd come back and haunt you. That I would never be far away, that you'd always know I was still around, looking out for you.

Then you promised you'd do the same.

But you haven't, have you? All this time, I have never felt you near. I don't get any signs from you, I don't see your ghost hovering out of the corner of my eye. You don't tell me you are ok. So much for promises, I guess.

People think that because I'm engaged now I'm 'fixed'. All better. They don't understand that there are some things you cannot fix. Some hurts that are so deep you can never reach the bottom of them. I still feel sliced in half.

Especially today.

If I had a superhero costume I'd dress up in it and hold a party of one. I'd find you some funny card, the kind you used to secretly stash in your little memory shoe box at the bottom of the closet. If I had the energy I'd get a cake and light some candles. But it's lame when you have to blow them out yourself.

Just know that while the rest of the world keeps spinning away, I will be remembering. I never forget.

Happy 28th birthday, babe.

1 comment:

  1. Your memories and your pain will be with you forever. The memories and the pain will fade but you do own them.
    Accepting and understanding a loved ones death is extremely difficult and impossible to explain or understand. I can hear your pain and as you say one can never be "fixed" after enduring the death of your husband. Life does go on but down a very different road that one planned for. Take it one day at a experience tells me it does get better but it one doesn't ever completely go is just different and no as painful after time.