My grief has been bubbling to the surface more, and I know it’s because I’m entering that stretch of time where I remember the days leading to George’s death. My wedding reception is October 19th and I still remember the drive back to Connecticut on October 17th. A Thursday. And how George couldn’t stay awake for the whole trip so I remember singing along to Duran Duran. The days are like crystal heading into those final weeks in November. The mind is interesting like that. I want these memories to vanish, but they are the most vivid. It’s like I close my eyes and I’m watching a movie of my life.
This year the anxiety is more powerful than last. Last year was the first anniversaries and I didn’t know what to expect. So I walked cautiously and tip toed around anything that could be a possible trigger. This year the streets are filled with land mines. Various words are like grenades and arbitrary memories are shrapnel piercing my will to move forward. I miss him like crazy. I miss the life we had and the life we were supposed to build. But I’m grateful I got to experience a love like his. Because without it I wouldn’t be so damn determined to push along. To hope the next hour or day will be better.
My 30th birthday is in 2 weeks and I decided to treat myself to a trip to Nashville. It will be my last weekend in my 20s and I am going out in fashion. Three things I love: fitness, history and halloween, and I know George will be with me throughout the weekend. My favorite holiday is halloween, I love fitness and will be running a half marathon, and my favorite era in history is the Jacksonian era and I will be in the city of my favorite president, Andrew Jackson. I can’t think of a better way to cap off my 20’s and head into my 30s. I love that man so much for all the love we share and how it still propels me forward to do great things and be the best version of myself. I want to make him proud and if he catches a glimpse of me, he can smile and say “yeah that’s my wife.”