Breaking records every week.
September 15th, 2022, would have been my 15th wedding anniversary. I wasn’t anxious leading up to the day. I’m in a positive place with my grief right now.
I went to yoga that morning and all was chill. The ladies in the class were talking about dying their hair and I was content to silently prepare myself for practice.
Then the teacher told a story about her husband cutting his own hair in horrible fashion weeks before their wedding. I chimed in, “Oh, I have a funny story like that. Wow. Today’s my wedding anniversary.” Maybe one of them knew I was a widower, but I was not up for repeating that part of the story.
On the morning of my wedding I was nervous and wanted to do an extra special job on my beard. I used the electric trimmer closer than usual and took a line of hair out of one sideburn. I was sick. I just ruined our photos and Mary would have to stare at this foolishness during our vows.
It turned out that no one noticed and you can’t see the mistake in the photos.
Back to yoga and a few laughs over the story. Time for practice. Before I could settle into my first pose, tears flowed down my face. A quiet, hot crying, highly preferable to heaving sobbing.
I didn’t sit too long in the sadness. We had ten years of marriage and it struck me that I’m halfway to ten years without it. It feels like distance from something I love. Not “loved,” but a life I care deeply for in the present.
I recently heard Joseph Campbell talk about how grief gives us an intimation of the everlasting. It allows us to imagine life after death, to see how we could live forever.
I was fortunate to experience a glimpse of forever this week.