Engagement

Six years ago today we got engaged.

The week prior, we bought a tiny lab-grown diamond at a local jeweler and had them set it on a necklace. We knew everyone would think we were crazy if we got engaged so soon after meeting, but we talked about absolutely everything. We went through list after list of “what to discuss before you get married” questions. We stayed up late into the night baring our souls to each other, sharing secrets and thoughts and hopes and dreams. We talked about morals, values, situations we might never face. Everything was aligned. We couldn’t wait to prove our love to each other in that way. The rest of the world didn’t matter so much.

We decided a necklace would be perfect for this more covert engagement. We’d know its significance. We could reuse the diamond when it was time for a ring. (Although that didn’t happen, because by then, you decided you wanted a slightly bigger diamond and I agreed!) I reserved a hotel room in Ithaca and we set out for Ithaca Falls, one of the places we visited on our very first trip there.

After spending some time at Ithaca Falls, we headed to the flower preserve. I thought it would be nice to be somewhere more private for the actual engagement. We walked through the woods, talking about everything and nothing. Once we found a secluded spot along the creek, I got on one knee and said all the true and sappy things one says in such a moment. You cried. We hugged and kissed and glowed. I swear we floated back to the car. The photos from that day are some of my absolute favorites.

I took you to Bool’s Flower Shop and bought you a single red rose. We checked into our lovely little room at the Hotel Ithaca. I can’t recall where we went to dinner that night, or if we got take out, but I’m 90% sure it was Red’s Place. We started talking about having kids more seriously that very night. It felt like the beginning of forever. I suppose in some ways, it was.

Every time you wore that necklace, we would grin knowingly at each other. To the  rest of the world, it looked like a nice and simple necklace. The kind that someone who is young and broke and in love buys for their significant other. A necklace that says “I’m classy and beautiful and don’t need anything fancy or over-the-top, but I have great taste and someone loves me.” For the (exactly) nine months between this engagement and our more public one with a ring, we got to share the delicious joy of a shared secret. Even after I gave you your engagement ring, which is its own story for another time, I was so happy every single time you wore the necklace.

At the time, we only told one close friend, who congratulated us over a meal shared outside a few days later. That same friend stopped speaking to us after your first pulmonary embolism. I wonder what they’d think about the fact that a P.E. is what ultimately led to your death. I wonder why they stopped speaking to us in the first place, but I’ve never had a chance to ask. I wonder if they know how sad it made us both that the person we shared our joy with disappeared from our lives. I don’t want to dwell on the negatives, though. That was a beautiful day and nothing can ever take that away.

I genuinely don’t remember who all we have told the truth about our engagement. I find it funny that we later married secretly, too. From the moment our worlds collided, we knew we had something sacred. Something worth protecting. A love so life changing, complete, and all-encompassing that we couldn’t stand calling each other “boyfriend and girlfriend” like high schoolers. I miss you every single day. Days like today remind me just how perfect you are and how terribly I miss you. I love you forever, Lin.