The Other End of an Echo
I used to get Roses with a card that said behold the flowers of love. He used to love to use Red Envelope because he could order me surprises and they would come all wrapped and ready for me to open. He was so excited to see if I loved what he chose. And, I always did, because he chose them.
Last year was my first Valentines Day without him. I refused to have anyone put decorations where I could see them. I was so acutely aware of the day coming. This year, in some ways is worse. The decorations caught me off guard. The girls in the cubicles outside of my office who survived my rage last year jumped up and said we can move them. I said no, because I realized that they were stupid crepe paper replicas of what love is.
Love is real, it has depth, it touches you it moves you physically. You make choices together, and as a person to be with your love. I miss slipping my arm around his waist when I saw him getting angry or frustrated, because I knew it would calm him. I miss him asking me randomly if I was happy. I miss hearing him whisper he loved me. We loved so much, we were true soul mates. We shouted it from the rooftops.
Now I am on the other end, the bounce back of the echo of our love. I do not get to hear those things; I do not get to slip my arm around you. Or hold your hand. Or hold you tight. There will be no special red box or red roses with proclamations of love. There is just me straining to hear some sound of our love.
My beloved John, I love you. I always have, I always will. I am so happy to be your wife. I do not need a day with crepe paper. Grief fixes that. It puts in start contrast to the pain you feel the depth of the love you have. And my love for you has no bounds.
So happy everyday my love. The sound of our love will echo forever.
I cannot do this without you. I do not want to.
One Breath, One Step, One day at a time.