The Reminder

Dearest Rachel –

Thanks to the fact that “some people did something” (to quote a certain congressperson whose constituency guarantees that she will never have to regret her choice of words; indeed, they all but celebrate such a callous attitude toward that day), twenty-three years ago yesterday, it’s impossible for me to forget about our anniversary the day after 9/11. Sure, it happened long before that day was burned into our national consciousness, but this day that was meant to be a happy personal memory was subsequently subsumed by a near-universal tragedy, whose sole benefit being that it would be impossible for me to fall victim to that malady befalling so many hapless husbands, that of forgetting one’s own wedding anniversary.

The irony, of course, is that it no longer matters if I do or not. The vows specified that we were to be ‘one flesh’ for “as long as we both shall live,” and with that not being the case anymore, it’s not incumbent upon me to remember. But with the drumbeat of remembrance attendant with yesterday (although the night before, at the presidential debates, a candidate obliquely dismissed the event by claiming that the events of January 6th were an even greater tragedy than the collapse of the Twin Towers, the assault on the Pentagon, and the abortive plan that resulted in a crater in rural Pennsylvania, so it would seem that everything is relative, depending on one’s perspective and purposes), I can’t forget our anniversary, even if I were to wish I could.

As it is, I have the same problem with the day as so many other husbands do with theirs; what do I do with this day? I never had the trouble of getting you a gift; all I needed to do was to ask you, and you would know what you wanted (and with that in mind, as long as I got that specific thing, you were happier with that than anything I could do to ‘surprise’ you). But I can’t do that anymore, since you’re not around to ask. And with that being said, do I celebrate the day at all? After all, we’re no longer a couple, legally speaking. I don’t suffer the shame of having failed in my marriage to you (unless you count my not being able to protect you from the accident that caused your demise, but how could anyone have expected that?), but it still feels like I’ve been left behind. With that in mind, what’s to celebrate about this day (any more than there is about the preceding day that reminds me of this one)? Couldn’t I just forget about it?

I wish I could, sometimes. If today could only be treated like any other, and nothing more, it would allow me less time to think about what I’ve lost out on; less thought put into dwelling on the better past and the bitter present.

But things are what they are. This would be our thirty-second anniversary, honey, and it has been the fourth since you had to leave. Since then, I’ve done quite a bit (and had a lot just happen to me); if nothing else, I’ve written you about two million words or so about it all. I would have preferred to have just been able to say it all to your face – or perhaps not having had to, as you would have been experiencing it alongside of me. Of course, that would have meant that these experiences would eventually be just as lost to time as so many of those that we had together over the twenty-eight years we were given.

Then again, some of the things you can read about wouldn’t even be happening if you were still here. If nothing else, the whole dating situation would definitely not be a thing (including the personal discovery of how many of the “other fish in the sea” are just catfish). Likewise, it’s questionable as to how much of this diet and exercise journey I’d be on if I was allowed the luxury of your love and acceptance just as I was; if I didn’t have to get in shape to impress anyone, would I do it? And on the flip side, would I have pushed to get the house cleaned up and remodeled – and would you have allowed it? Obviously, I wouldn’t have been able to discard as much as I did, since you would have needed room for your own stuff (and insisted on keeping so much of your parents’); would we have been able to get this far with the house?

And because of that work on the house, there’s also the fact that Daniel has his friend Logan living with us these days; he would have never been able to move in if we hadn’t cleaned out the yellow room so thoroughly. Then again, we may not have seen the need to have someone here to give Daniel a sense of connection in my absence from the house – even if we had been able to clean the place up – if you were still around to be his constant companion during the hours I spent at the ‘office.’

Yeah, there’s a lot about our lives that would have been vastly different if you had been able to stay here with us. And while commemorating the date we became one seems pointless at this juncture – since we’re no longer traveling that road together – it isn’t as if I can escape from the realization that the day is upon me, honey. All I can do is make a note of it, wish you a ‘happy anniversary’ (assuming you recognize it from your vantage point outside of time), and ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck in making it through the day. I’m going to need it, that’s for sure.