My iPhone calendar reminded me Saturday afternoon that Sunday, Jan. 28, is my wedding anniversary. Red and I would have been married seven years today.
The reminder shocked me because I’m good at dates and I’d completely forgotten. In my defense, we had been engaged since Christmas morning 1998, and so the sweet little ceremony on Jan. 28, 2017, was mostly a confirmation of what our relationship had been for many years.
I suppose it’s a healthy sign that the date almost slipped my mind — reaching the acceptance stage, getting on with life and all that. Still, I’m a little mortified. I’ll always remember the day itself, even if the anniversary slips away.
One goofy thing about wedding vows is the part about pledging “to love and to cherish till death do us part.” This should come as no surprise, but the loving and cherishing doesn’t end then. I suppose we say it because it sounds poetic.
Since you asked, I’m really doing fine these seven months later. I realized a month or two ago that I’d been talking about her with a friend and told a couple of anecdotes that had choked me up to tell a few months earlier. So that part about how it gets easier is definitely true.
One kind of heartbreaking thing about the stages of grief — They never really tell you that once you reach acceptance, you’re still sad. I suppose that goes without saying.
