“Happy Anniversary” Jay’s whisper floated through the haze of my dreams every year on this day – spoken as he went to bed late in the night. “Happy Anniversary,” my groggy reply. “I love you.”
Today is the second year I woke up after midnight and whispered into the air that wish to an empty room. “Happy Anniversary,” spoken to the empty side of my bed – no longer our bed.
Someone told me I was strong today – for no particular reason, they just mentioned it. They had no idea that today was any different than any other day, and I suppose it’s not – not any more. It’s just a day whose lost its meaning.
I went to a quilt show once. Of all the random stories you get to hear about that now. At this quilt show hung a beautiful work of art that read, “My Son is Dead”. The card next to it explained that this is the invisible sign the artist wears every day. A sign no one sees, but that she now shouted out to the world with the creation of this quilt. And I get that.
I talk. I laugh. I tell stories. And all of that is part of who I am, but the invisible sign I wear every single day screams out, “My husband is dead” with the subtext “My favorite person is dead.” “His beautiful face.” Some days it’s painted in bright angry colors, others are softer/more blurred, but it’s never not worn.
Over the next several weeks, I’m going to talk about suicide and the aftermath. I haven’t chosen my direction, but I need you to be prepared. This may not be your topic. That’s ok. You don’t have to read or bear witness. I just have things to say, and they may not be beautiful or perfect or particularly meaningful, and that’s ok for me, too. But if you get to say I’m strong, then I get to show you all the cracks and imperfections that are also a huge part of who I am and my experience.
” a day whose lost its meaning” This is a precise observation so many miss or don’t want to recognize.
The “invisible sign carried” is another jewel as it is so true but often while heavy, not noticed. Good when it is – and it lifts a bit. I love yours has colors.
The birds, the flowers, the trees, the outdoors notice the absence. They are the best to console.
There are many bright lights in this world, and you are definitely one of them. Thank you for always reaching through the bits and bytes and packets and general electric noise to provide that light – to bring a smile to my face – to teach me by sharing something new – to amaze me with a turn of phrase or cleverly composed metaphor. You are both beautiful and wonderful, and I am glad our lives have touched through these blogs.
Thank you for sharing you with us, Beth. I’m always grateful for that.
You’re welcome David. Thank you for continuing to read this mess of a blog. 🙂