I didn't think I should have to give up anything else for Lent this year.
Not that we did this every year- but a few times. There was that one year you gave up PS2 and I gave up chocolate. But then I went out with a friend to some girls' night and had a few free cocktails and took a sample of chocolate and ate it without thinking. I came home and told you about my night kind of giddily and then somehow wound up telling you, "Oh so then I got a few chocolate samples," and your eyes widened and you said, "Chocolate!" And then I remembered.
Anyway, I didn't think I should have to give up anything this year, even though Lent feels more important than usual.
I am tired of leftovers. We have so many now because I can't seem to get down cooking for just myself and a toddler who may or may not eat what I prepare. You ate all the leftovers.
Feels like I have a lot of leftover love too. Not only deprived of receiving, but also of giving. I'm guessing this is why I pour myself into little memorial "projects" for you. I am used to having someone to direct this love towards for eleven years and now you are not here to receive what I have to give.
When I spoke at your funeral about the mundane details I mentioned how you always unclogged the toothpaste. I'm just not good at squeezing it neatly or closing the top so the top gets dried and gross and hard to close. A few days after I buried you, I remember it getting clogged already and I spoke out loud something like, "no!" and cleaned it neatly before closing the cap tightly. "No, I will not be destroyed- I will not lose everything you've taught me," the action seemed to say.
The toothpaste- the same tube you shared with me, is just about gone now- and it's a mess.
In terms of remarriage I'm set. This morning Audrey told me she wants to marry me. And it's funny because you told me that you remembered being a little boy and wanting to marry your mom.
Today we went to the Bronx Zoo with family friends. It was my first time there since I took the subway there with you when we were first dating over ten years ago. It feels like every new place I return to this year - the last time I was there was probably with you. I see photos in my mind of me in a purple fleece smiling with elephants behind me. I remember you bought me cotton candy and I got hyper. I remember you fell asleep- your head on my shoulder on the train on the way home. I couldn't understand how you fell asleep a lot like that since I was so excited about our new dating relationship, I never could've fallen asleep on you. But you really did. I can feel the weight of your head as you drifted off, getting heavier and heavier on my shoulder...and then rolling off from time to time when the train jolted...you'd reposition it on my shoulder without waking up.
It's hard to be with another family unit- and old friends whom we knew together. I am overcome at points- when I see Audrey follow their daughter's lead and run into the man's arms asking, "Can I do that?" My eyes tear up frequently and I tell myself to breath...this is for Audrey- she will have a good time.
I feel these days like every child with two parents is spoiled- living in luxury.
Not every single thing was bad about you being away-traveling. I was just remembering how attractive you seemed to me one time on skype- how I suddenly felt nervous and hoped I looked OK when I saw you on the screen. You were about to go on for a show and wearing black as all of the band members did. You always looked great in black- and white too. You were looking right into my eyes which I find so hard to do on skype myself- and you were saying, "hey beautiful…" and I thought you were talking to Audrey- cause you acted like you were but you looked straight at me.
"Hey beautiful..." you said slowly...after almost eleven years together- I think I blushed.