For Sara:
I remember how the time flew on our first date, though I don’t remember what all we talked about. I walked away that night already wanting to see you again. I knew you were special.
I remember how strong you were; I wish you’d of seen yourself from my perspective. Everything you’d been through in your life, and you were still marching ahead trying to get to where you wanted to be. You were stronger than you gave yourself credit for.
I remember when we were house hunting, and we walked into the house that became ours – the last of 5 houses we wanted to look at that day. All the others had been duds. We walked into this one and you turned toward myself and the real estate agent, and your face lit up when you said “You need to get us this house!” (or something along those lines…)
I remember, about a month later when we’d closed on the house and tried moving our bed in that night when we discovered the water had been shut off. You were sitting on floor in the unfurnished living room, calling the water company and then the real estate agent trying to figure out what was going on. I was so appreciative that you were willing to make those calls.
I remember when we left Elvis in your apartment for the first time to go out to the movies. It was a good thing we came back earlier than planned due to a mix-up of movie schedules, because Elvis was standing in the middle of your mangled blinds in your front window and I was simultaneously laughing with you and feeling mortified.
I remember driving out to California one summer with you to visit family; it was the only road trip I got to take you on, which makes my heart hurt. Neither you nor your little car appreciated the summer heat as we were driving through Nevada. We had to stop unexpectedly to get new tires in Beaver, Utah, but they were able to take care of us and get us on our way. You couldn’t resist buying an I (heart) Beaver mug, which later broke after we got home. We listened to Harry Potter audio books and it was such a great trip, at least up until the last half day. Then a bug hit me, that I’d picked up in California. You had to take over driving, and I ended up puking pepto-bismol colored lunch at some rest area not too long after. It was a pretty miserable drive back into Denver.
I remember how beautiful you were on our wedding day, and how happy I was that we did our wedding our way, in our home surrounded by people who loved us. You made your own amazing veil with seashells, and bouquet with flowers made from the pages of a used copy of Harry Potter. Our wedding was just so US.
I remember our honeymoon in Orlando – we stayed at this lovely hotel, and spent a day at Universal Studios that actually was a bit of a disaster. We got to see the Harry Potter world, which was fun at times, but it was at the back of the park and you weren’t physically prepared for all the walking we would have to do. Those parks aren’t set up to help make it easier for people with less than full physical abilities. It was a rough day, and I know how disappointed you were, but it was still a time we both came to cherish. We talked about going back sometime, since you’d lost some weight and felt like you’d be able to handle it better.
I remember your 40th birthday – it was pretty perfect, just a group of friends and family at the house who you really cared about. We had a Moana cake.
I remember when we tried to go to Drumming Up The Sun at Red Rocks for winter solstice 2017. We got part way up the hill but couldn’t make it due to the snow/ice and our not-so-winter-savvy car. We turned around and took Colfax alllllll the way home, because you were afraid of the highways. It took 2 hours, but it was so fun. What a great solstice morning. You took a picture of a sign on the West end of Colfax that just said “Lipstick” – you said that it seemed someone was trying to lure you there.
I remember the one time we went camping the summer of 2018 – it was wonderful! With people we felt safe around, and such beautiful surroundings. You were anxious but we figured out the whole portable battery/cpap thing so that you could still use your cpap at night even in the wilderness. We slept 2 nights in a tent and you were so proud. One of the days we hung back at the campsite while everyone else had taken off, and a thunderstorm came through – we rescued a few of the doggies who’d been left at the campsite with us, and we all huddled under the patio/picnic shelter. It was so fun. We wanted to go camping more, but never had the chance.
I remember going bowling for your 41st birthday – that was somehow the 1st time we’d been bowling together. We invited friends and family and got you a light-up sash that told everyone you were the birthday person.
I remember when I took the pregnancy test after the 3rd IUI round. This was a few days after you’d been told you might have cancer, but we weren’t sure yet. Looking back, I know you knew what was coming. You KNEW it, even if you didn’t. My breath had been knocked out of me and I stood in the doorway of the bedroom. When I told you it was positive, you were silent a few moments and then said, “We’re going to have a baby!” We curled up together and cried and held each other – understanding that our world was shifting in so many ways.
I remember when we were in the hospital delivering George – you were so strong, so supportive despite both of our hearts breaking. At one point, I was sitting with my legs over the side of the bed braced on your thighs, your hands holding mine. Contractions were strong and regular. It hurt, so much, and I wanted nothing more than to just be curled up with you. You were my person, my rock. I don’t know how I could’ve done that without you. Neither of us could breathe when we held him, so tiny and perfect in our arms – if only he had been alive. This is an awful, beautiful, sad memory that I would never give up. We made George with our love, and we delivered him surrounded with our love.
I remember your last breath – I’d been dozing next to you off and on for a few hours. You in your hospital bed, and me in a reclining chair next to it. I don’t know what had woken me, but I looked around and my ears heard your breathing change – a hitch in your breath or something that was just different. Then I looked down at you, and you were still. I felt you leave. This is such a painful memory, but it is one I would not want to let go of. I told you I would be there for you, and I was – right up until (and after) your last breath. There is something sacred about witnessing someone’s death. It’s something I wish there had been no need for, but I am grateful that I was there with you.
In writing these memories, I’m filled with love but also with some resentment and sadness that I only got 4 years with you. We were supposed to make so many more memories together. You were not supposed to die. I love you so much and will continue trying to remember all the wonderful times we had together, that make my memory of you a blessing.
Note: this was written based on a writing prompt provided to me through a paid course I am taking. I am not including the prompt, because the daily prompts are a critical component of that course.
