When one half of a partnership has died, marking its beginning is complicated. Do you keep counting the years, or do you have to add qualifying words in front of the number like would have been? Do you celebrate something when you are actually mourning it? I have no answers. Hopefully clarity will come in future years.
A new chapter formally began in my life sixteen years ago. I didn't know it would be but a chapter and not the rest of my life... We had no idea, absolutely no clue, about what the future held. Still, I smile when I remember our earnestness. We promised to stick by each other through sickness, hard times, right up until death parted us. We did that way sooner than most people have to face up to the fact that marriage is not happily ever after.
I dreamed of Chris a few nights ago. It was a simple vignette of Chris resting next to me. There were some words exchanged but nothing of substance, and nothing of reassurance. This is typical of the dreams of Chris that I recall, and I wonder if it means that I do vividly remember him but that my brain is reminding me that he is not coming back. It is hard to wake up from a night when I dream of Chris. I usually want to go back to sleep to find him again and it often sets the day on an unproductive, unsettled track.
In this instance, when I woke I was not upset, but I probed my memory for more details of the dream and it was only then that I realized that there was at least one other dream of Chris from that same night. Try as I did, I could not call up anything other than vague recollections. I wonder if I dream of Chris frequently but do not remember in the morning. It's another mystery in this strange experience...
...
To Chris on our 16th anniversary:
Last year I had many words, a plan, actions to take. I made a pilgrimmage to our places. I took off my rings. I was devastated but also felt strangely euphoric and nostalgic; last 7/31 was a formative experience to mark our special day for the first time without you.
I miss my rings sometimes, Chris, because their simple beauty gave my pleasure and represented the best of times we shared. My hand looks old now without them. The skin on the tops of my hands has aged quickly, like the rest of me, and the bareness of my hands without my rings seems to suit how I feel. The austerity of the absence of these adornments is better for me now as my plainness exemplifies my hollowness. I stopped wearing my necklace with our rings a few months ago, too. I took it off once, disgusted at the tarnished chain, and haven't felt the need to wear it daily since. You see, I don't need symbols to remember you. Last year I was afraid to take them off, and now I know that I don't need them.
On thinking about the rings now, I have half a mind to see if they still fit but I simply don't have the energy. I do have the innate knowledge that they would slip back on, and also recognize that the reappearance of them on my finger would feel wrong for this moment. The rings would still fit, YOU would still fit in my life if you could only come back, but you can't. I can't go back despite how much I want to.
I miss you so much. I miss our life. I don't know how to do this well without you and I don't want to do this for tens of years without you.
This 7/31 I have few cogent words, no mental clarity, no plan, no nothing. My mind is buzzing with staticky panic because I am being severely tested right now, Chris. Many people are. What would you think of the pandemic and the state of the world? I only know it would be easier and lighter if you were alive and healthy. Not only logistically, although I sorely miss your can-do nature and teamwork right now, but the mood in this house would have an air of fun. We would get through it together. Sometimes I dwell in gratitude that this global health crisis did not occur while you were really sick. It would have been too much...
Gratitude is actually the best place to focus because the regrets hurt too much to dwell on and cannot be fixed, anyway.
I am indeed grateful. I am so lucky you said YES when I attempted to pluck you out of the cold nerd-dom of grad school. My memories of that day are only vague, but I recall your smile, gentleness, and my own giddy anticipation of something about to begin. It is similar to my memory of our wedding day - it was happy and perfect, the beginning of something new and wonderful.
Thank you. Thank you for everything.
I mean all of that sincerely, but I still can't help but say I miss you because I miss you with everything I am tonight. I wish I could go back or you could come forward with me, and I'm crying in desperation from the futility of wanting that.
You are gone and I have to keep going. I only can because you loved me so well.
I love you. I will always carry you with me.
B
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