Something beautiful

I went out for a walk tonight at 9 p.m. because I knew you wanted me to go see something beautiful. The stars were out, the moon shining, half-full, and there was barely any sound but the soft wind occasionally rustling through the trees. I gazed up at the sky so much my neck got the stretch of a lifetime. I kept using my arms, or my jacket hood, to block the streetlights and floodlights and every light that wasn’t coming from above. The whole way I talked to you, thanked you for loving me, marveled at how beautiful the sky looked. You were right. I did see something beautiful.

Looking at the night sky tonight reminded me of the night you passed away. As I sat on the bench where we’d taken anniversary photos almost exactly two months prior, the same bench where we took some of our favorite wedding photos in 2022, I shook. I trembled with the absolute horror of losing you. I vibrated with the certainty I needed to be there in that moment. I shivered from the biting cold. Despite protests from my mom, my dad, and my brother, I insisted on staying just a few minutes longer. A huge gust of wind hit me, and I know it was you telling me you were alright, and that I should go warm up. I was already crying but I sobbed harder. Not eight hours earlier you were still alive, and yet there I was, heading “home” without you.

Looking at the night sky tonight reminded me of staying in the little cabin in the Catskills in December. We spent hours and hours, cuddled up together, staring at the trees and sky. We watched the sun set, and the next morning, we watched it rise. We talked about everything and nothing. We spent lots of time in silence. You said you felt so peaceful. We couldn’t wait to go back. I will go back as soon as I can. I’ll write, and talk to you, and cry, and it won’t be the same. Nothing will ever be the same.

Looking at the night sky tonight reminded me of camping at Peyper Fields. We had a beautiful afternoon, a sublime evening, and it was shaping up to be a perfect night. We ate so many strawberries coated in fluff and toasted that I couldn’t believe it. We made love, interrupted by a cat meowing outside our tent, so absurd that we couldn’t do anything but laugh. After, we went to the bathhouse together, holding hands. On our way back, staring up at the sky absolutely full of stars, we saw a shooting star. I remember marveling at it, thinking it must be a sign of good luck. Only a month later, you were diagnosed with cancer, already stage 4.

I am glad I went for that walk tonight. I need opportunities to see beauty. I only cried a little bit. I miss you so much it takes my breath away, but I know you are there with me in those moments because I feel full of love and wonder. I love you.