This means it’s also 60 months, or 261 weeks, and, because of two Leap Years, it’s been 1827 days. There are some 43,848 hours between that day and today, or 2,630,880 minutes, or 157,852,800 seconds. I mention all that because it underscores two truths: First it seems like it can’t possibly be that long, and second, that there are times I felt every single second of that time. It turns out, both things can be true at the same time.
I’ve talked about how I knew this year would be challenging because of the three significant anniversaries within it: My 65th birthday back in January, what would have been Nigel’s 60th birthday last month, and now the fifth Horrible Anniversary today. What made each one challenging wasn’t sadness and loss: They’re actually always hanging around in the shadows nearby, waiting to jump me when I least expect it. What made the anniversaries challenging was I knew the three dates would make me particularly reflective—about Nigel, about our life together, about the loss of both him and the person I was back then, and that latter would mean reflecting on my life since that horrible day five years ago.
The essence of that day is that it was one of loss and parting and endings, but it was also a moment fixed in time, and I don’t live there—anymore.
Nigel and I both loved Star Trek, and especially Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The series debuted on January 4, 1993, with its premier episode, ”Emissary”. In that episode, he encounters entities who take the appearance of people in the life of Commander Benjamin Sisko (played by Avery Brooks). They keep bringing him the moment he found his wife dead as he prepared to abandon ship in the midst of a battle three years earlier. A synopsis of the episode is at the link, but it kept recurring in my mind in the first couple years or so after Nigel died because of one specific thing: Sisko asks the entities why they keep showing him that horrific event, and they reply: “Because you exist here.”
“Because you exist here!” For the first couple years, I existed in the loss of Nigel, including the very moment he left. That was partly my natural grief response, but, to be fair, it was also nurtured by the social isolation of the various Covid Lockdowns and near-Lockdowns of that time. Nevertheless, once I realised that I was stuck in my own past, and my loss, I started to focus on things that would bring me closer to whatever my future would become.
Over the past three years, give or take, I’ve focused myself on the future (to the extent I’m able to focus on anything…). This was literally everything, from projects around the house, to adventures of various sorts, as well as writing and podcasting. And then it was this year’s turn, and the inevitable reflection it brought.
Over the course of this year in particular, I’ve often felt disappointed in myself because my house is still not finished/sorted, and the guilt has become its own burden—it’s own chain holding me back, sometimes all the way back to before that horrible day in 2019 when I was living a very different and much happier life with Nigel. It doesn’t take any training to see that, in a sense, I was still exisiting there, and, in a sense, all my efforts to focus on the future were arguably little more than window dressing, maybe even sometimes it was me trying to fool myself.
And yet, things are also very different that even in relatively recent times. For example, I’m better able to (just) tolerate frustration than I was at the start of this journey, and I also get angry less often—but grumpiness still abounds. Maybe it’s the last remnant.
On the other hand, I’ve done things, especially with technology, that I never would’ve thought I could do—often that would’ve surprised Nigel, too. I’ve become a better cook—and a far worse housekeeper. And, I care far less about any of that than I once did because I understand nothing, good or bad, lasts forever, and some things just don’t matter in the overall scheme of things (who lays on their deathbed saying, “I just wish I’d vacuumed more often”?). Heck, even Leo is now considered a “senior” dog, no longer the puppy who joined our family in 2018.
Last week was the 29th anniversary of when I arrived in New Zealand as a tourist and Nigel and I met in real life for the first time. During the trip, I found a job that allowed me to return to NZ to live with Nigel. It turns out, five years without Nigel is equivalent to more than 20% of the time between that 1995 day and the day Nigel died. This also means that 17.24% of my New Zealand life has been without Nigel, a figure that grows every single day—and, appropriately, growing every day is my goal for myself (whether I succeed or not is beside the point…).
Five years ago today I lost the love of my life, my best friend, my trusted advisor, and my soulmate, yes, but we both HAD that. He lived long enough to be able to legally marry a man, and when we married, it meant that I, too, achieved a dream younger me never thought would be possible in my lifetime. No matter what happens in the rest of my life, however long or short it is, I’ll always have that truth—on top of the love and commitment Nigel and I shared, something that profoundly changed me for the better: I am a better man because of Nigel and our life together.
My journey over the past five years has been rough—even hellish sometimes. More likely than not, there will be challenges and rough times to come, too, because that’s generally true of most people’s lives. However, because of the life Nigel and I shared, I’m in a better place to meet those challenges than I’d be if we’d never met.
So today, of all days, I think about all of that. I miss Nigel, of course, and think about him every day—of course. But I go forward carrying him in my heart and in many happy memories. Five years ago today was an ending, absolutely. It was also a beginning, though of what, precisely, still isn’t clear to me. If I could, I’d still do literally anything to get my old life back, but that’s not the way it works with linear time. Even so, I’m still so deeply and profoundly grateful that for 24 years Nigel and I shared linear time together—and I know that no amount of time would have ever been enough.
Five years ago today, Nigel left us, and I remained—and so does the love. I’ll carry that with me for all my days, however many that may be. The biggest truth I’ve learned is also the most obvious: Love never dies.
2 comments:
There are never the right words... Thinking of you always, especially in September.
Thank you. Fortunately, there's not very much of September left now.
Post a Comment