I cannot believe it’s been a year. I couldn’t blog on the anniversary. It hit me pretty hard. I spent the day remembering, hour by hour reliving everything. My brain wouldn’t let me NOT do that. Everyone around me is planning Christmas and I am trying to be cheerful about it all. We never decorated the house for Christmas — I guess not having kids spared us of that obligation. But we always treated ourselves to one spectacular “house present” every year, ranging from airline tickets for a planned Las Vegas trip to a new HD TV and everything in between. Last year, we had planned to treat ourselves to a fine steak dinner at Morton’s Steakhouse. I had even printed out the menus and Robo had already begun fantasizing about his dinner. But that never happened. And I got caught up in the funeral arrangements and my own hospitalization at the same time — so that the holidays last year were just a big blur. This year I have more time to brood about it, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. Not consciously, you understand. but I just cannot help it.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I cry at the drop of a hat. My favorite uncle told me when I was just a little girl that the world would be an unhappy place for someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. He was right, I guess.
There are all kind of tears, cried for all kinds of reasons. There have been times I’ve laughed so hard that I’ve cried. I cry when I hear a sad song or see a sad movie. When I see or read something that kills my soul, like animal abuse and other inhumanities that humans visit on themselves and other creatures. I cry when I am frustrated with something or if something disappoints me (read: If I don’t get my way about something I’ve counted on).
I am sitting here at Big Law, bored, three projects completed and stacked up ready to be picked up. I decided to clean out my email inbox and Sent Items folders. I ran across this, written to a friend regarding relationship issue (she had been considering a divorce and asked for advice). Just another reason …
Tomorrow would have been Robert’s 64th birthday. We’ve celebrated every birthday, his and mine, together since I was 23 and he was 33. Birthday celebrations were always low-key with a couple of notable exceptions. I’d buy him a new shirt or pair of pants, make his favorite dinner and otherwise cater to him on “his day.” He looked forward to the extra special treatment, a day when he had a free pass to do just about anything. 🙂