A member in the Fellowship of Grief just posted something about crying— everyday for 7 months.
I’ve been there too.
For over 365 days, not one 24 hour period went by without tears.
I didn’t bother to wear eye makeup for that first year.
It was a banner day for me when I decided to buy a new mascara.
Progress sometimes is measured in the strangest ways.
I recently cleaned out a drawer that had a few things Nick had left behind here in the winter we came to visit. I wanted to consider it his drawer, so I’d put things in there that were his: his wallet, his MP3 player, his hairbrush a scarf that still had his scent lingering on it.
I kept it that way for a few year, but recently I thought it was time to take the drawer back. Nick always said I was an imperialist.
I found things that hurt… like the wrapping from a present I just gave him that Christmas, on the wrapping one of these huge smiling faces I draw that he called “Cooties.” [I really don’t know why].
But I also found this card I had once upon a time kept out where I could always see it. I had put it away one day when I found it— mocking me and I burst into tears.
Because, you see— the life I imagined was one where I was a wife, and a mother. A creative person thriving in some pastoral setting in the E.U. with Nick by my side. Me doing my thing, Nick finding clever ways to market my work and his music… I envisioned a home for us, a place where loved ones were welcome and I’d cook for everyone… Veggies from the garden—because all Nick wanted was a garden…
I cannot go confidently anywhere, because that dream is gone.
So I packed the card up.
It hurts to have no dreams.
When Nicholas and I got married, the plan had been to leave here the next day, “stealing” my mother’s car or renting one and drive to Missouri to see my father and stepmother. Nick hadn’t met either yet, and this was his first trip to the U.S.
That was the plan. Maybe have a romantic night somewhere weird like Memphis or Nashville…
But around 1 am after the wedding, I stepped into the garden and onto a wobbly paving stone and twisted my ankle. [Please note, I had even removed my dainty little shoes I’d gotten married in, and was wearing the most unattractive Eddie Bauer flat sandals to minimize the chance of hurting myself. So much for that.]
My foot was soon swollen to about 2 1/2 times it’s size. It was ghastly. To say it was painful is an understatement. A friend took out the last bottles of Cava from the ice tub and just brought me the tub to stick my foot in… That hurt too.
So driving for 2 days was out of the question. We flew out two days later.
We spent a week there… Nick was mesmerized with the silence of the woods.
After our week there, we came back here, where my mother and grandmother continued to start putting together this house. He had a meeting in L.A. and flew out the next day.
So we’d been married over a week and still hadn’t had any time alone.
Determined to have some semblance of a normal wedding [too late!] I vowed to get us out of here for a weekend— to have something resembling a honeymoon. When Nick got back from L.A. we rented a car and drove to Charleston.
I may have gotten the last room available, since I’d forgotten it was Labour Day Weekend. I asked them to have a bottle of champagne in our room when we got there.
We arrived, checked in and starving, hit the streets. A block down was Hyman’s Seafood Company—and as good a place as any for Nick’s introduction to the town.
When the waiter arrived, I ordered us some fried green tomatoes. [When in Rome]
At some point I blurted out to the waiter that we’d just gotten married. Nick was mortified. Poor man— he was so private and had no idea how bonkers his little American bride was on her own soil.
Today, I decided to try to make fried green tomatoes for the first time. And all I could think was: “I would give anything to go back in time… I’d still embarrass you— we got the fried green tomatoes on the house Sweetie!”
Now everyone is getting curious!!
Thank god this blog is anonymous — if she knew I was getting help….
Still no response on Mason. Will keep you posted…
Baby may arrive earlier than anticipated so I have even less time to guess and I only get 3 guesses a day.
My pregnant friend who refuses to share the baby’s name, but is letting me guess, has given me three more clues.
So now we know the name is:
- gender neutral - ends with an N
- has only two vowels in it and A and an O, and in that…
Update: I have guessed:
The other clue she gave is that it is gender neutral but of late has been given to boys more than girls.
Because Nicholas and I worked from home offices, our morning routine varied, but whomever woke first would make coffee and bring a huge cup to the other still in bed.
I never understood why my coffee tasted better when Nick would bring me mine.
Until one day we were both by the coffee machine, he poured out our mugs and he put in one huge heaping tablespoon of sugar into my cup.
"Oh my god! Is that how much sugar you put in my coffee when you bring it to me??"
"Is that wrong?"
"It’s a LOT of sugar. I don’t know that I need that much sugar."
"But you like it?"
"Then enjoy it."