And If You Did Know?

On July 26, 1997, Michele and I were married in a ceremony we wrote for ourselves. It was simple and direct, filled with words that had importance to both of us. While, at the time, we could hardly afford even the minimal ceremony and reception we had, it was important to us to share our vows in front of family and friends. Ceremony is significant because of its public, shared nature.

Together we traveled thousands of miles, lived in four states, weathered hurricanes, and survived financial disaster. We struggled with heath issues and found peace in a shared spiritual belief. She helped me to see the man I can be, and I believe I helped her to see she was worthy of love. That she is gone from my life forever still astounds me. I know it won’t be a fully year for another two and a half months, but I feel like I’ll be one tomorrow.

Tomorrow is my first anniversary alone. I’m like a newborn, only I’ve been born into a strange world that doesn’t always make sense and isn’t always gentle. Like children must learn to walk and talk for themselves, I must learn to prosper and grow in this new life, this new world where I find myself. It is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do.

I miss you so very much Michele. You will always live in my heart and in my memories. I love you and always will.

Come live with me and be my love…

It has been nine months since Michele died. At times now it seems like forever, at other times I can still see the images in my mind from the day she died. On the whole I think I am doing better. I’ve started a new martial art, begun watching what I eat a little more carefully, and joined a gym. All three of these activities are taking care of me right now. In a month or six I may be headed in a different direction, but for now I feel good about what I am doing for myself.

I’ve also started to thinking about life after Michele more. I’m of two minds about moving on from her, in fact I almost feel like two people at times. The man who was her husband, friend, lover, and companion for nearly ten years doesn’t want to move on or even think about the future. It is as if I were stuck in time, waiting for her to return, waiting for this all to be just a very bad dream. In my head I know this isn’t a dream, that I’m not going to wake up; but in my heart I still hope.

Another part of me is ready to start the next phase of my life. I no longer have good coping skills for being unattached. I function better when I have a partner, a companion, a confidant with which to share life’s triumphs and tragedies. I’ve started taking some very careful, measured steps in the direction of a new relationship. I know that Michele would want me to let myself have good in the rest of my life.

During the ten years of our love affair we shared our ideas and dreams for the future. Things as small as movies we wanted to see, to trips around the world, to the type of house we wanted, and where it would be located. Upon her death all of those things died too. My future became a blank, empty space with no landmarks or familiar reference points to guide me. Like a child lost in the dark I alternated between rush round and round in circles and standing still hoping for a light. By adding some new activities to my life I’ve set a direction, by thinking about new relationships I’ve raise the line of my sight to the stars off in the distance. I will go on from here, I will have new relationships and new adventures.

My love for Michele will never end. She will always be a radiant constellation in the night sky of my life. No matter where I go, or who I am ultimately with, she will always be there to guide me, and in the comfort of my heart, love me.