June 17, 1995

Today is our anniversary. I'm feeling a little sad today. I've been feeling a little sad for the last couple of weeks. The sadness seems to ebb and flow. Jim and I really didn't celebrate our anniversary. We got married in June, and from that date on I knew that he'd be on his annual fishing trip with the Musky Marauders pretty much every year for the rest of our married lives. And I was okay with that. Last year I was just thankful that we made it to 12 years, although by then I had a bit of a suspicion that Lucky 13 might not happen.

And here we are, at no-so-Lucky 13. It's not the day that makes me sad, it's the feelings associated with this month. When it's a beautiful night in Kohler and there's a gentle breeze, I'm sad without him. My peonies are blooming like crazy in the backyard, and I'm sad - that's something we worked on together. Grilling out food and eating Popsicles - all reminds me of Jim. A blazing hot June day reminds me of the day we got married.

June of 1995 was a terrifying and exhilarating time. What we were thinking about when we got married at 22 and 26 years old, I'll never know. I guess we were thinking that we were crazy in love. Our wedding and reception was huge. The wedding was in a little church in Honeoye-Falls - there was barely enough room for everyone. And it was hotter than heck that day. I remember using one of my little white gloves to mop off Jim's forehead when I got to the end of the aisle. He was sweating like crazy - maybe from the heat, most certainly from fear. It was a beautiful garden reception in a tent in my parents' yard. It was fabulous wedding weather. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky...everyone looked wonderful. My parents worked so hard on the yard, and it really looked picturesque. (I'm not sure why they didn't splurge on a landscape company to help them, but I guess sticker shock from the wedding urged them to do a number of things on their own!) I was so terrified I had a hard time eating or drinking anything. We danced and danced and danced. My parents continued to find forks and spoons in their lawn for months after the reception.

We were so giddy with the excitement of being newlyweds. We lived in a teeny little apartment in Buffalo. We were so poor - we had no money starting out. I didn't have a job. Jim had just started his job about a year before the wedding. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again - Jim and I worked for most everything we have. We had a lot of goals together. And we achieved a lot together.

I guess that's really the point in celebrating an anniversary - to look at how far you've come, review your goals together, and press on for many more happy years. Even when I review our lives together now, by myself, I know that we strove for a number of things we were both proud to list in our accomplishments. Whether that be success at work, remodeling a house, giving lots of hugs, having two healthy children, or making time to say "I love you" every day and really mean it.

Since Jim passed away, I've struggled with my emotions - everything from being disgusted when people treat each other disrespectfully to feeling the need to explain why my husband wasn't helping me with the Christmas tree. Now I'm mostly feeling sad - sad for the loss of Jim, sad for my kids losing their father, sad because I'm on my own. I'm still happy for other couples when I see them together, but there's a sting there now that I must have been able to overlook before. I'm happy for them, but selfishly, I'm sad for me and Jim. We wanted to be a couple. That's why we got married. I miss being a couple. I miss our long walks and talks, that inevitably turned into planning sessions for the next several months and years. I miss achieving things with someone I love. I miss feeling pride in Jim, in our relationship, and even in me and how I'd grown in our relationship.

Happy Anniversary, Lambchop. I miss you something terrible. Our wedding day was brilliant, and from it we built a life of happiness.