Thirty Five

What were you doing 2 years ago? Do you remember? Seven hundred and thirty days. Two full years. Unbelievable. It can still make me drop every expletive in the book or drown a bottle of wine quicker than you'd imagine someone would have the ability to do so. I know how it feels to rather be numb than continue to breathe. I know what it’s like to have to listen to the incessant bitching about how unworthy people's spouses are and watch them take each other for granted all the while feeling the injustice of the situation.  
I would give a limb to hear you complain about my choice of music in the car. I’d love to go on one more wild car ride with you. I promise I wouldn’t criticize you about the crazy way you were riding people’s bumpers. I’d even agree to watch the History channel and learn about topics that are beyond my intelligence level simply to be with you. Listening to you strum your guitar or belting out Big Shot; that's what my dreams are made of.   

Honestly Daniel, it seems like years ago that we rode the elevator up into that chemotherapy office together and started the hell that ended up taking you down. Seven hundred and thirty days ago. I remember your mood, the smells, how hot the office was, how petrified I was, what played on the television in the waiting room, the other people sitting in the huge gaudy bluish chairs. I remember that sleeping lady we murmured about. The male receptionist that stared through us. I know what movie you watched to pass the time. I know when you pretended to rest. I remember what you ate. I remember the nurses and how the change in chemicals felt from your perspective. I remember your laugh as we carried on in our usual mischievous way.

You would have been so proud of us today. You would have loved the day the three of us shared in your honor, even when my first set of purchased balloons, bag and all, got stuck in the trees because I didn’t tie them off properly. Instead of being pissed, I simply smiled. You would say that everything does not need to be planned and to chill. I was listening today. They were just balloons.

​We hope you reached out and grabbed our second set, Mickey from Reed and Spider Man from Lucas. I hope you listened to our songs and watched us dance and grabbed our hands and were right there with us. I hope you heard Lucas ask me to send you a cupcake and how I convinced him you would enjoy ours through us. I know you heard Reed's pleas to come home and see him today. We missed you.

Our wedding day, Cabo Wabo, the birth of our children, No pressure- no problem, Melanoma, the day Petey died- seven hundred and thirty days ago, your 33rd birthday joined this group of "forever days" that began the process of burning and branding me a different person than the woman you married.
​
Today however wasn’t about your absence. Today was simply about celebrating you and celebrating our family.  If I could go back I would have held your hand more. I would have backed off on all the things that simply aren’t important and I would have celebrated US more. It’s so easy to look back and say coulda, woulda, shoulda, but to those reading this, I would tell you to do. You must take the steps and do. What will your life look like in the next seven hundred and thirty?  I can assure you I never imagined in my scariest dreams that I would be sitting here, widowed with two kids under five.  Tell those important to you that you love them.

Today Daniel, the day was for you. A day full of your favorite things. A day dedicated to you. Thank you for the strength. I know you see me fighting every single day and I know you are seeing the progress.
Hard to believe we are on thirty five. Happy Birthday Daniel.

---