Today is the saddest day of my life.
Let me explain.
Yes, my husband’s completely sudden and shocking death happened on July 13, 2011.
That was the worst day of my life.
That was the day that changed every single thing about my world forever.
It changed the very way I breathe air.
It took my life and split it into two seperate lives – before and after.
July 13th was the absolute worst day of my life.
But this day is the saddest.
I don’t know if this will be true forever,
or if in time,
things will change,
as grief-related things often do.
I don’t know.
But right now, here, in this moment – today is the saddest day of my life.
It is October 27th. My wedding day.
The happiest day of my life.
The day that every person in our combined world,
came to New York to that beautiful venue on the water,
to witness our love and dance and eat delicious gourmet food,
and to laugh and laugh and laugh.
Every wedding picture I see of us,
we are laughing.
So very much in love.
With each other.
With our life.
On that day,
I sat inside of every single moment and took it in.
I knew how special and priceless it all was.
Which is why it hurts so much today.
The saddest day of my life.
when I think about that day,
I think about those moments,
and I think about my husband,
saying to me at the top of the Bridal suite stairs,
“We did it, Boo!”
I think about watching as our Best Man and Maid of Honor signed that wedding license.
I think about the vows we wrote for each other.
I think about how, at age 35, I had finally found my person,
and how ecstatic and calm I was, to be with him forever.
Then I think about how forever was only 4 and a half years.
How we never bought a home together,
how we never had a family together,
how he was robbed out of his forever, and I was robbed of mine,
and handed a brand new life that I didnt want and had no idea how to live.
I think about what marriage is and what it represents,
and how safe I felt about getting old, or getting sick, or facing hardships in life,
knowing that I had made the absolute only and right choice in a husband.
Then I think about the word husband,
how much I loved saying it.
How I cant say it anymore, but say it anyway.
I think about how incredibly hurtful it is to see and witness other people having Anniversaries
and new homes
and innocent laughter
and ease at the knowing that they think they know,
about their own safe and happy futures.
So far, in this awful grief catastrophe (I refuse to call it a journey),
I have done quite well with feeling my emotions.
So far, I get them out and when I want to cry or it just happens randomly, I let it happen.
I write everything down and I sit inside of the massive pain until it passes.
Until next time.
Because I know that doing so will help me heal.
But not with this. Not my wedding.
So far, my wedding and Christmas are the two things I cannot handle.
Just cant get a grasp on them.
Perhaps it is because they are forever linked.
Christmas was always my favorite day of the year.
My husband knew this, so he proposed on December 18th,
underneath the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.
The fall was always my favorite time of year,
so we had a Christmas-themed wedding, in October.
The happiest day of my life.
The saddest day.
Even the very thought of thinking about Christmas and how I will deal with it this year,
sends me into panic and anxiety and hurt.
The first year my parents and I ran away to Foxwoods Casino,
pretending it wasnt Christmas at all.
Last year, I stayed in NYC and saw Les Miserable at the movies with my friend Bobby.
This year maybe I will hop on a plane to Saturn, or the moon, or Hollywood.
Anyplace where reality doesn’t exist.
And my wedding day. Just typing it or talking about it or thinking about it makes me sob.
Still. After 2 years and 3 months.
The hurt over my wedding day is not any less intense.
This whole week leading up to it, I have had this inner-sadness,
just sitting there, like a heavy meal,
making me uncomfortable and void of purpose.
Walking around with that much sadness feels awful.
Even my subconscious knows the deep sadness.
The denial and the pain.
My heart knew that I just could not go there.
It knew, because last night I had a dream.
The dream was not about my wedding day.
It was about the day he died.
The dreams details are not important,
because they are too sad and too complicated,
to fit on this page.
But it was the kind of dream,
where you wake up and think how great it feels,
to wake up from that dream horror,
and then you remember,
that you are awake and living,
in this new horror.
What is important,
about this dream,
My brain and my heart would rather take me back
to the pain of my husband’s death
than to the pain of our wedding day,
and all that it represents.
All that is gone.
is the saddest day.
on the day I walked down the aisle,
to meet my life partner,
in what I thought I knew
I will instead,
walk down the sand,
in the bay,
across the street from where we married,
and visit his ashes that were sprinkled there,
and think about everything that this day means,
and everything that is gone,
It shouldnt be happening,
and it isn’t fair.
But here I go anyway,
off to be with myself,
and my husband.
And Im still calling him my husband.
My beautiful, wonderful, perfect for me, loving, husband.
My dead husband.
And today is the saddest day.