Longing

I felt this same feeling intensely as winter gave way to spring, and now it’s happening again as summer looms ever closer: new seasons should not dawn without your physical self here to experience, celebrate, witness them. I simply cannot believe that close to five months have passed since your body died. We held your celebration of life on the spring equinox, and the day ended up being pretty overcast and chilly. I found it fitting, especially because you loved a rainy day. Now that it’s June, we haven’t had many rainy days lately. The sun shines more often than not. I kind of hate it but I feel like a buzzkill so I keep it to myself. I keep a lot of things to myself now.

I think back to this time last year, and the year before, when you were caring for me as I recovered. I wish so deeply and desperately that I had the opportunity to return the favor. You took such excellent care of me all of the time. I hope my attempts during your treatment and then your hospital stay at the very least conveyed to you my intentions. I would have taken such excellent care of you. I’m still trying to, even now. I feel compelled to ask if you’ve had water, taken your meds, eaten some lunch by mid-afternoon. I still look at the many things scattered about our home that helped you feel better, and I leave them where they are. Maybe they’ll make me feel better.

I also think a lot about where you’d be in recovery now had things gone differently. Would you be finished with radiation and chemo? What would your voice sound like? Would you be able to eat anything you wanted? Would you be singing again? How fluent in ASL would you be? I know it’s a fool’s errand to follow these threads but I simply can’t help myself. My brain doesn’t know any better than to keep you as the center of my universe. You are and you always will be. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The flowers your mom and I bought and planted or potted are doing well in the yard. The bumblebees are the perfect size to fit in each of the calibrachoa’s countless blossoms. The peonies are much happier now. I can’t wait to see the purple coneflower bloom. I remember telling you last summer, when we went to Ithaca for a day trip, that they’re the same plant as black eyed Susans. You said you didn’t think you’d seen them before but thought they were pretty. There are marigolds and bee balm and one I can’t remember the name of, but they’ll be gorgeous when they flower. The main criteria were full sun plants that we thought you’d enjoy.

I planted your birthday card, which was full of wildflower seeds, in a pot, too. I can’t be sure if it will grow, or if seeds the birds have scattered will take root, but we’ll find out in time. I’m trying hard to make our love visible. I feel it, and I know you do too. I hope the rest of the world will get a glimpse and celebrate us. How lucky we got to experience loving one another, and that it doesn’t end, couldn’t end. I still miss you terribly. But I love you even more.