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pre-birthday ramblings


Mizpah
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He died when he was 28 and I was 32, and tomorrow he would've been 33.  I have a daughter now who's almost 2 and who is, of course, not his.  I have a boyfriend.  I moved.  I have a new life.  I haven't gone to his grave since I moved.  I never walk on the streets we always walked on and I never go to our movie theater or our favorite restaurants.  I don't see his family.  I think about him all the time, I talk about him here and there. 

 

His birthday was always a big deal - we did a whole week of celebrating - why not?  He loved life.  I loved him.  He loved me.  I'd wear this T-shirt that said "BEST DAY EVER" in big letters on the day of.  Always did special things - planned to go to Tahiti for his 30th, but, alas, he was dead.  After he died, I'd have a dinner party at his favorite restaurant - candles and great food and wine a few steps down from the sidewalk in Manhattan - we'd tell stories and toast to him.  One year it was in the midst of a beautiful light snowstorm, that glittering kind of snow. 

 

My life is a million miles away in time and space now (ok, only a couple hundred and a few years, but still).  I'm no longer a single/widowed NYC girl.  I'm an overburdened overtired working mom of a young girl, in a challenging relationship with a long commute in a rural place with no friends.  I thought the hardest part of my future would be missing DH, but I find that life remains hard, though not as soul-wrenching and it's different - and I have my daughter.  Tomorrow I'm going to dinner with my sister to celebrate DH.  I put on my wedding band this morning, my annual gift to him, starting a day early (why not?). 

 

I meant this to be a post about him - how he had the hugest heart and the most love, so generous of spirit, that he saw through bullshit (but never called out anyone on anything - except me, on everything, with love and affection and admiration) and knew exactly what was important and what wasn't.  I don't know.  As time goes on, it feels harder and harder to access "the real him."  Did anyone read A Grief Observed by CS Lewis?  He makes really great points about memory.  How it's not them.  It can't contain them.  Their gestures, what it was  like to be in a room with them....  All gone.  And I'm all that's left.  I hope to love like him - big, forgiving, seeing the best in someone and so fostering that.  But I'll never be like him.  I asked him one night in bed what it was like to be him and he said, "Just like being you."  But it wasn't.  And I'll never know.  No one will.  And the world no longer contains him. 

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Sending you tight hugs! It sounds like he was a really wonderful man- the type of person it is very hard to live without because not only was he your love, he was really inspiring to you as well. That is how my husband was. The world overall feels a little darker, because his light is missing.

 

I'm so sorry your husband can't still be here.

 

More hugs...

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I am glad you will be celebrating his birthday

I love what you wrote about him and it sounds like the world is missing a wonderful man

with you missing him most of all

Sounds like someone MyDon would have been friends with 

I hope you feel a little of him on this day and it brings you more of a smile then sadness

take care

 

 

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Mizpah,

This move me to tears, for you, for Simon? I remember when you were first widowed. My God, that beautiful man that you made so alive for us all. I remeber sending you a message about how alive you made him for  us. Plus the fact he was drop- dead gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. A phrase I used so lightly at one time? My Peter was a drop dead georgeous man. And a kind man, too.

Thinking of you, dear Mizpah.

ps I love C.S. Lewis- but I must disagree  with him. It has been nine years since my life changed in that instant. They are gone, yes. But I close my eyes and I see that man, as large as life, smiling at me. i truly beleive in another universe, you are still embraced by Simon in a photo you shared with us.  Einstein was jsut proved right..but he never truly believed in his own theory. Such is life.

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