Forgetful Four

We used to forget. I thought I’d be lucky enough this year to forget, but alas I am cursed.

We were never ones for dates and holidays, knowing that every day we had was special (sorry for being cheesy). However, this season seemed to be one where the holidays and dates smacked me upside the head. Emails, texts, calls, all reminders that I should be sad and lonely. The intentions of others always sincere and very much appreciated (the opposite, forgetting you, would be the unthinkably painful), but alas a constant reminder of what was missing this year.

Today would have been our fourth wedding anniversary.  Today, I will remember that day that we became an official unit. We had always been a team, but on January 3, 2009, we were finally legitimized in society’s eyes. Marriage was something we never needed to do to prove our love to each other, but something that, in retrospect, was the best thing that ever happened to us.

Four months after we married, you were diagnosed. I remember being so thankful that you had “forced” me to be your wife. Somehow, it became so much more important, not only for all the legal reasons and requirements by our medical system, but because I knew from that moment it would always be “until death do we part”.  Of course, it’s something that everyone will have to face, but I never thought it would have been so soon for us. Never.

Throughout the almost four years of your illness, I watched you with such pride. So proud that you were my husband. You were a man of true loyalty, strength, compassion, empathy, love and honesty. Like I’ve said to so many people, you never ever complained. Never a self-pity. Never a hesitation to put someone’s struggle in front of yours.  Always teaching me what it meant to truly love someone. And yes, as every married couple, we had our small moments of irritation with one another. However, we were always, yes always, so appreciative of what we had with one another. We were so lucky. So compatible on so many levels. Always learning from each other. Always thankful for each other.

The past two weeks, I’ve regressed back to the memories of your suffering this past summer. It is so difficult to watch anyone deteriorate, let alone someone you care so deeply about and have so desperately tried to help. I have a hard time sleeping thinking of all that you went through. I was there every single day watching it and not even realizing what you felt. Instead, we just kept looking forward to the flight home; to 2013; to life with your family in LA; to your new career; to having children of our own. Only now am I starting to wrap my head around your suffering and I don’t think I’ll ever really understand. It was my job, supporting you. I would do it again, but I will never understand how it felt for you and why it had to be this way.

Today, I am so lost without you.  I know it will pass and I will feel strength again shortly. Strength that I learned from you. But, in this instant, I am not sure I will ever meet anyone that will care so honestly about what happens to me. You were the person I called for every single thing. Now, I go home to an empty house, where there used to be so much warmth and reciprocation. Always wanting the best for one another. Always making each other the priority. Now, I don’t have that first person I can call that has every part of my life as their priority. Yes, I have amazing friends, but we all know that’s different. You were there to rejoice in something happy; to give selfless advice in a difficult situation; to laugh at something so ridiculously silly; and just to listen when there was no appropriate response. It’s different now. Moving into a new place, I want to turn to you and say “isn’t it awesome how we can backup to our front door and unload groceries“.  Or turned to you and ask you how you made your omelets (I took those for granted). Just a couple of the millions of things that only we would “get”. Things that took ten years to build. But alas, you aren’t here.  You gave my life lots of laughter, knowledge, companionship and most importantly a purpose. Our lives were completely intertwined. The Good. The Bad. The Ugly. Everything I focused on was to try to get you better. Not only have I lost my buddy, but I have lost a huge drive and purpose in my life.

Others will remind that I have so much to live for still. And, of course, I know this is true. They will remind me that I’ll never replace you, but I will find someone different. Maybe. But today (maybe not the whole day), I am allowed to feel the desolation, emptiness and sadness. There will be more of these days. There will also be plenty of moments of laughter, hopes of a future, enjoyments of moments, but they will be very different. It’s all part of getting through and remembering to reach for the strawberries.

I would say that I would like to continue our tradition of forgetting our anniversaries, but I think that too has changed. Unforgettable, no you aren’t… and I am very lucky that this is the case.