Because of Leap Year, the actual anniversary will be on Sunday. I’m noting the anniversary in weeks mainly because I have several times before, but I know that in future years I’ll remember it mostly by the anniversary date, and not the specific week or day of week, just as I have for all the happy anniversaries we shared. I think that if that’s so common with happy memories, maybe it’s a good idea for bad memories, and especially horrible ones.
Really, though, how we mark time is beside the point: Nigel died fifty-two weeks ago today, and that’s a year in any real sense. It hurts every bit as much as it did a year ago—maybe even a bit more because I now fully comprehend what’s happened, and how affected I am by that.
Today was a pretty crap day, overall. No surprises there, of course—I expected that this would be a terrible time for me. I’ve documented much of that on this blog, and, of course, I’ll continue to do so, including up to and through the horrible anniversary itself (even though, obviously, I consider today to be the “real” first horrible anniversary).
I’ve been thinking about Nigel all day, and I’ve cried several times. I put Nigel’s bracelet on this morning, the one I mentioned back in October of last year, and for the same reasons. Mostly, though, I’m wearing that bracelet because it makes me feel more connected to him a year after the day that physical connection was broken. That’s actually very comforting.
I still have absolutely no idea what my future will be, but I know something of the present. Tonight I went out for dinner with my brother and sister in law, and it was a really awesome time (including the food, fortunately). Over the next few days, Sunday in particular, some of the family and I will be getting together mainly just to be together. We’ll all note the horrible anniversary in the ways that are right for us as individuals, but at the same time being together means we can lend each other some strength, or even find just a bit by being together. That would make Nigel so very, very happy.
The loss of my Nigel hurts every bit as much as it did fifty-two weeks ago—maybe even a bit more. There are still tears, and will be long after the horrible anniversary—both of them—is over. I know that. But today marks the start of a significant change, one that actually begins on Sunday.
But right now, I have to get through the night. And then Saturday. And then Sunday. And then the rest of my life, whatever it becomes.
The image up top is what I posted to my personal Facebook this morning.
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