Thirteen years later

It’s now been thirteen years since Nigel and I had our civil union ceremony. So much has changed since then, and even since the eleventh anniversary, which Nigel didn’t live to see. I noted as much in my personal Facebook post earlier today:

Thirteen years ago today, Nigel and I had our Civil Union. It was, at the time, the happiest day of our lives—until we were married in 2013, when that day took the title. Becoming a widower is absolutely the worst thing I’ve ever experienced, but *why* I found that out is because Nigel and I were together and a family. That “why” kind of sands the edges off the pain, because the only way I could’ve avoided that is if Nigel hadn’t been part of my life—part of me. That love we shared still carries me forward—it’s actually what makes it possible for me to move forward. That day 13 years ago was a very happy one. The memory of it still is a happy one.

I think that probably says as much about where I’m at, existentially speaking, as anything else could. I still miss him every single day, I still think about what he’d say, and what he’d think, but I also have to live life. In fact, I feel I have to live it for both of us. I said as much in reply to a friend on the facebook post:

I hope to bring comfort or understanding to others, which is why I share so much. It’s definitely a long and difficult journey, but if I didn’t try with all my might to move forward and live for Nigel and me both, I’d feel I was dishonouring everything we had. I have no idea what the future will bring, but it’ll be built on everything that was—that much I know for sure!

And so it is. Thirteen years ago today Nigel and I finally had legal recognition of our relationship. That, in turn, came some 13 years after it began, neatly enough. That won’t be the last coincidental alignment of numbers, but I like this one.

This particular anniversary no longer matters, not just because we were married a few years after the civil union, and not just because Nigel's gone, though all that matters. Instead, it’s because that earlier anniversary was superseded by both our marriage and its end and the fact that I’m moving forward in my life. It was inevitable, and that’s—now—a welcome thing.

This anniversary used to be the final event it what I called my “Season of Anniversaries”, something that also doesn’t matter anymore. Even so, some of the anniversaries within that “season” were and remain important to me: The day I first arrived in New Zealand as a tourist, the day I arrived in New Zealand to live, and, of course, my birthday. I’m still learning what they all mean without Nigel as part of them—except, of course, he still is.

Last year, I quoted my post from 2019: “So, Happy anniversary to us! Once again.” I’ll still go with that.

Previously

2009: Perfect Day – where it began
2010: One and Fifteen
2011: Second Anniversary, squared
2012: Three years ago today
2013: Fourth Anniversary
2014: An anniversary
2015: Anniversaries
2016: A seventh Anniversary
2017: Eight years later
2018: Nine years later
2019: Ten years later
There was no post in 2020.
2021: Twelve years later