Nine Years
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.