Wife would be 71-years old today. I would be planning to take her out to supper. Her family would call and wish her well. Her friends would call from all over the country to wish her a happy day. She would have been on the phone all day long.
She would be late to leave with me for supper. Even if I was a little frustrated, it would be OK. It was her way. We would have a good evening out and then return home to spend some time together.
I miss those days, this one in particular, but also the holidays that she so loved. This is my lot now that she is gone. It is not that I feel that awful tearing pain of grief anymore; I do not. That work is done.
But there lingers the missing of that communal life. This will never go away. Even if I could make the hole go away, I am not sure I would. It is a reflection of that part of my life and is valuable in and of itself.
I am reminded of a phrase from a song, I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all… This is a small pain and tolerable. It is a good reminder of Wife. I miss her.
I think I will open a new bottle of wine this evening and raise my glass to the east, where her ashes rest. I will say “Thank you!” and “Miss you!” as I do, then turn to sit on the sofa with The Girl, who will snuggle up against me or put her heavy head in my lap. I expect a tear will be shed before the end of the day.
Still, I remain grateful for that communal life. We had a good life together. Life is still good.