I've been thinking about you a lot these past couple of weeks. It's been five months now. I know it doesn't seem like a long period of time, but it feels like forever since I've seen you or heard your voice. I think I would give everything I own just to hear your laughter again. I'm afraid I will forget it, forget the sound of it, forget how much it was a part of who you were.
Susan came by the gallery last week and we had therapy. The kind you have when grief is taking up too much of your life. We are both sad and somehow comforted by voicing it with each other. Grief is such an odd thing. I can be caught up in such a small world, deep in despair over haunting memories of your illness. They are so vivid to me, so toxic and yet I am so unaware I am drowning in them. Susan reminded me there is more of you to remember than just two months of sadness. She also reminded me you would never want to be remembered that way. She is so right. You would want me to remember the good, only the good. The Ellen who was happy, healthy and very much alive.
So. I'm working on it. Next week is our anniversary of eight years. This is what I choose to remember. Not the loss, but the blessings. The memory of our first days together, the cards filled with messages of devotion, the celebration of times and years spent with each other. The joy, the love and yes, above all, the laughter. That is my gift to you this year. I promise to remember your laughter. You deserve nothing less.
Happy Anniversary my love.