While I won’t get to celebrate our anniversary with you in the way that we did for the first 19 years, I felt you in the breeze today and heard you in the rustle of the leaves that stilled me for an unknown amount of time. I saw you in the raven who circled over me as I stood to leave the amazing view of the mountains, rivers and meadows.  

You are with me often and I know it when I allow myself to. I feel it when I allow myself to feel it. I experience it when I let go of how I had planned that we would celebrate these anniversaries and be with the way that we celebrate now.

Since I am on the topic of regrets, I saw that Star Wars Episode 1 is back in theaters for it’s 25th anniversary. I wish I had truly asked you to go see it with me because I would then have had a couple more weeks of dating you. Then again, you may have said “no” for real and I may not have been bold enough to try again. Either way, it’s nearly impossible to believe that we started dating 25 years ago. As Burke and I were cleaning out the garage a couple of weeks ago, I came across a container that had a bunch of your stuff in it and found a box that contained the cards you and I gave each other when we first start dating and a little past the time after we got married. Thank you for saving these. This was divine timing as I needed a reminder of what our love for each other was like.

As the concern grew amongst the adults of the village, they decided to hold a meeting, as adults are wont to do. The meeting was meant to provide the adults a forum for discussion on the meaning of "Ha!", but, as adults are also wont to do, it turned into a discussion of how to stop the children from saying the word "Ha!". As the discussion became more and more heated and the adults worked themselves into more and more of a frenzy, they came to a conclusion that would lay the adults' fears to rest and, of course would be best for the children: Short of physical violence, unless absolutely necessary, they must do whatever it takes to stop the children from saying "Ha!". Plan in place the adults, some more hesitant than others, set out to achieve their goal and restore normality to their village.

I’m a road, the edges of which are

Felt but unseen

Heard but out of tune

Chosen without direction

I’ve arrived

I’m becoming

I’m within this abandoned, yet

Hallowed space, this place

Where I bathe in choice

This place where regret is

Futile

Through it all I saw you.

I saw your strength in the jagged peaks of the mountains we passed in Montana and in the rivers that carved their paths next to many roads that we travelled. I saw your beauty in the delicate Arches in Utah and in the rolling hills of South Dakota. I saw your unending love for Burke and Fritz in the petrified trees in Arizona and saw your caring and kind nature spread across the top of the San Francisco Peaks as the sun descended behind them for the night. I saw your tenacity in Burke as he navigated getting a license to do street art in Rapid City and saw your determined grace in Fritz as he calmly navigated us along various routes of our trip.

I saw your childhood in Spencer.

I saw you.

I see you.

Let the winds take from you what they will.

Slough it off. Slough it all off; all that which no longer serves you.

Slough it off to the barest of bones and hunker down until ready to bloom again.

Be you in all of your bareness and let the next set of adornments come your way when ready.

I followed a trail today that was both unexpected and beautiful. It felt like I was continuing our dance with life while holding you in my heart instead of my arms.

There are steps where I thought I had to do this alone, walk this path alone and there have now been steps that have led me to the realization that this isn’t my path to walk alone, but it is my path alone to walk.

My hope is that, eventually, I will look at the puzzle and see that the missing piece has been filled with all of the beautiful memories that myself and the kids have of Teresa. Her beauty. Her sense of humor. Her courage. Her dedication. Her love. Her devotion. Her giving 100% to everything that she did. Her garden. Her cooking. Her gifts. Her work. Her caring.

Over the last three months different thoughts have hit me at different times. Some thoughts have hit hard and continue to reverberate through me today. Some thoughts sneak in, make a momentary impact, and then leave just as sneakily. Some thoughts seem to come out of the blue and tend to bring a line of thoughts with them, all connected and related but maybe not in order yet.

When I think about all that Teresa did at home and all the people she helped (or at least tried to help) at work I am baffled not only by how she did it, but how she did it so well. Teresa held so many roles (mother, wife, daughter, counselor, friend, etc) and performed them all so well.

As the boys and I continue to till the soil of our lives and continue planting new memories as a family we are discovering that, while Teresa isn’t here physically, her love – the nutrient that helped create such strong family roots for us – is here. Her love is with us and is continuing to help us grow stronger as individuals and, more importantly, as a family. Teresa’s love for the kids continues to give them the light and room that they need to flourish and find the space they need in life. Teresa’s love for the kids provides them with a trellis when they need help finding the purchase they need to continue their climb to adulthood. Teresa’s love for the kids is and will continue to be.

When I think about sitting at one of our favorite restaurants on our anniversary I wonder if I can do it. I wonder if I can sit there and eat a meal while staring across at an empty chair, the chair Teresa should always be sitting in. I wonder if this would be the right thing to do. I wonder if it will be the perfect thing to do.

I learned that, if we listen to each other’s stories, if we take notice of and appreciate all that is around us, if we are still when we can be still and let go when are able to let go, we can see the beauty of life; the preciousness of all that is around us.

Since that day I’ve dreamt of you a number of times. There is always a moment in the dream where I realize that I am with you and I’m overcome with the need to hug you and tell you how much I love you; to tell you these things and hold you so tightly so that you know, so that you know I always loved you and alway will. I cry every time because part of me knows this moment is fleeting.

I like to think, though, that there is some part of me that is actually hugging some part of you, and that you hear me tell you how much I love you.

This holding the wound inside of me isn’t meant to hide the wound, to not talk about the hurt that is still there since Teresa passed but is meant to hold it in a space within where it is held in love and safety. I’m grateful that Teresa chose to spend 20 year of her life with me. Shifting from regret to gratitude is part of the inner healing that needs to happen in order for the outer growth to be more perceptible.

In the end, I think this fear is trying to protect me from getting hurt, and it did a good job of that for a long time but, I think, the hurt, the failing, is sometimes how we grow, how we learn. So I’m grateful for this part of me and the protection it tries to provide but living from a place of fear is not something I want anymore. I want to feel, I want to experience and I want to speak.