Feels like I'm closing in on the finish line. Huffing and puffing with sore feet and a dry throat. Never have I so completely marked off one year. Time has flown by, time has stood still, time has inched along agonizingly. I can not ever remember paying such close attention to the passage of time. I can not ever remember having a date loom so....so....so. I planned my last adventure to New Mexico and Colorado in June so that I could look forward to the month of September. And not view of the approach of September with dread.
This year has been a time of pain and grief and discovery. As Rob had said to me, "It will be an opportunity for Personal Growth." Yeah right. I came back from my Southwest Adventure all full of myself. Convinced I was managing fine on my own. A few days back my cat took sick. And I found myself dealing with what was going on with him by myself. I so yearned to have Rob to share my worry. I so totally didn't want to deal with this by myself. What, another medical issue in the month of September. Would all Septembers be like this? Was this a month that I would want to remove from the calendar?
My cat's illness caused me again look inside myself. God this "Personal Growth" thing just keeps going on and on and on. Was he expressing through his illness what I was not able to? He had a cough. His throat was sore and closed. Like when you are caught in overwhelming grief and can't make a sound. Was I blocking my grief? Was I fooling myself that I was fine with the coming anniversary?
My latest rant has been why do I, we, people, society, you "celebrate" the death of one we love? Why mark the date of their demise? Their passing? Their death? Isn't the fact of their being gone enough? Why mark it with such meaning? Widows are "one year out" "two years out" "six years out". Why not focus on happier dates? Like birthdays or wedding anniversaries or first date dates or...or....or. It makes no sense to me. Help me out here.
An interlude. A few days ago I received an email about discounted tickets to an Emmylou Harris concert that was taking place in a nearby city. I could not pass this up and started to try and think of which friend might be interested in going with me. But I didn't want to wait to order the tickets, and I didn't want to buy two and then try and find someone. It felt a bit defiant to just go ahead and buy one ticket—but that is exactly what I did.
Tonight was the concert. And as I was getting ready to go I started to feel a bit anxious. I had never been to this venue, I was going alone. But on the plus side I had Celeste (my GPS) to guide me and she and I had managed much greater travels together recently. And guide me she did, through some of the grittiest, seediest parts of the City. I'm going to have to have a talk with that girl!
I was the first person to sit in my row at the theater. Soon, two women came and sat down beside me. Marie and Theresa immediately became my two new best friends! How do these things happen?!?! We compared Emmylou Harris concerts we had been to, we talked about the venue, we exchanged a host of personal information. How do these things happen?!?!?
I told them about a previous concert I had gone to this City where I had been amazed that they allowed large plastic cups of beer in the hall. And how the audience throughout the concert was in constant motion. In with beer, out to pee, back in with more beer and out to pee all night long.
The lights go down and we watch the row in front of us as four people come stumbling in with cups of beer held high. And Marie starts to laugh. And Theresa starts to laugh. And I start to laugh. We are just feeding off of each other. The four finally manage to find their seats and then one has to go out again. Apparently I am laughing with great abandon and the person on my other side asks, "What are you on? I want some of that." How do these things happen?!?!?
The concert? I love Emmylou Harris. Robert loved Emmylou Harris. I believe we had/have every one of her albums. And I found the concert to be a time travel experience. Each song she sang stood for a time in our lives. A place we lived, a car we were driving, a room we listened to that song, a vista...images cascaded through my mind's eye. I laughed, I danced, I cried.
That is what this anniversary is about. It is not about celebrating Robert's death. It is about celebrating our life together.
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