Dear Dead Husband,
I will begin by saying that I cant believe thats still a thing. You being dead. Im kind of over it, if you want to know the truth. At this point, I feel I have learned all the life lessons I can possibly learn about death, Ive taken the pain and found the funny, and Ive used my grief to help others. What more do you want from me? Here's the thing. The "you being dead" part of this whole mess, I can live with it, I suppose. It's the whole "forever and ever dead" part that I will always find horrific.
Today is no sort of special day. Our wedding anniversary is coming up at the end of this month, on October 27th, and that is, of course, on my mind. I do find that our wedding anniversary is by far my hardest and saddest day. Even sadder than the anniversary of the day you died. You are dead every single day, but we only got married on one day. And still, more than eight years after your sudden death, I dont have a clue what to do with that day.
Sure, I will make my yearly trip to NYC, take the train out to Long Island, go sit by the rocks on the bay, next to the venue where we married, and where I put some of your ashes. I will talk to you and I will try and feel you close, and I will honor our special day and our love. I will be with you, together. Alone. That is all that I can do.
And if some people want to roll their eyes at the idea of me doing that, or don't understand why I still do that, or how much it means to me to still do that, even though Im now 2 years heart-deep into a beautiful and loving relationship, then I don't really care. It's not about them. It's about us. Me and you.
YOU understand. It's our day, and it will always be our day, and I so very much want to reach the point where I can recall the pure joy and love and magic of that day, without immediately feeling awful and intensely sad at the thought of you still being dead. I have not reached that point, and Im not so sure that I ever will. Marrying you was the best thing I ever did, and the sadness overwhelms me on our wedding day, and leading up to it.
So today is no special day, except for the countdown to our magical union, and just another day of many, that you are still and forever dead.
The Yankees are in the playoffs. Game One is tonight, and I miss you and so badly want to watch with you and hear you comment and laugh with me. If they make it to the World Series, I will be in NYC that week for our wedding anniversary, and then watching without you while being in NY will probably make it even sadder. I don't know. Lately, in this eighth year without you here, I am missing you differently. It feels deeper, more profound, and more permanent somehow. I dont know how to explain it, other than to say it has been way too many years since I have seen you or joked with you or watched our Yankees play. I have never felt guilty for living life while you are dead, but I have felt profound and growing sadness at the idea of me living and experiencing all of life, while you will never have that chance. It hurts me to my core to think about that, and that specific pain and reality seems to expand for me each year, because more life-stuff keeps happening, and you keep on missing it.