Just a Day

I remember the scene as if it were yesterday. We walked arm in arm to the rose petal covered area where friends and family eagerly awaited. Ahead of us walked a violinist, the tune from the strings reverberating into the air and into the wooded spaces. A little girl tossed rose petals along the way, making a path for us to follow to where the ultimate display of love was to be played out. I was nervous. It was the most important day of my life. I believe it was the most important day of her life as well. In less than an hour, we were to be man and wife, after professing our love for each other in front of family, friends, nature, and God.

Even though it may have felt like it, it wasn’t yesterday. It was fourteen years ago. Today. I hadn’t thought about until I got to work this morning. Then it was all I could think about. Today was supposed to be a happy day, a day of remembrance. A day to look back on and constantly reaffirm the love that was supposed to last forever. A day to remind us of that one day long ago. A day of Provino’s Cannelloni and a bottle of wine. A day of anniversary cards and maybe a gift or two. A day of longing, looking forward to culminating the day with the act of professed love. For at least twelve of those years, it was. Each and every anniversary was special to me. I never wanted them to end. I never thought they would.

Last year, on our thirteenth anniversary, it wasn’t like the rest. I already knew that she wasn’t happy. I already knew that the things I was doing to try and fix what was broken, to make right the things that were wrong…these things weren’t working. In fact, the more I tried to work at it, the worse it got, the more distant she became, the angrier at me she got. Angry? Yes. Angry because she thought I was only doing those things because she had mentioned she wasn’t happy. Which in turn, was true, to a point. What else would you do if you were told that things weren’t right, things were broken, and something needed to be done? You would try to make things right, fix it, do something about it. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t that be the natural reaction? I was not only doing it because she had told me things weren’t right. That wasn’t the only reason. No, I was doing it also because I wanted to. I was afraid that our marriage was in jeopardy. I would have done anything in my power to make things right. And I did. It just wasn’t good enough.

So, today was to be special; to remember and look forward. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was a day of thoughtfulness, at least on my part. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t morose most of the day. I was. It hurt to think that the forever that was to be was no longer. I didn’t talk to many people about what today was supposed to have been. I really didn’t feel like talking about it. By no means did I let it ruin my day, but the thoughts of what today should have been kept surfacing, making me think about things, good and bad. As the day went on, I wanted to talk to someone, anyone about what I was feeling. But I didn’t. I thought that to do so would be like seeking someone to have pity on me. That was not what I wanted. I don’t want pity. I do want comfort though. Everyone at some point or another wants to be comforted, to be held, to be told that everything is going to be alright. I am no different.

I got an email from someone that I had been trying to meet for quite some time now. The timing has not been right, and for some reason or another, we haven’t met yet. We’ve talked on the phone, sent messages through Instant Messenger, and sent emails back and forth for weeks now. I got this email after returning from being gone all weekend. It said to please call. So I did. No answer. I kept on trying to call. At some point, the answering machine message changed to indicate that she had been in the hospital. I finally got her on the phone tonight. Something bad had happened and the seriousness of it makes me feel so bad for her. I empathize with her pain. I wanted to comfort her. I tried, but I really don’t think that comfort can come from long distance, over the phone words. Comfort needs a physical presence as well as the words. I did try my best, but I don’t know what more to say than, “I’m sorry. It will get better”. As if they are magic words that will make things better just by saying them. I know they won’t. But for now, it is all I can give. It’s all I can do is to let her know that I feel for her, I want her to get better, and I really hope that she can find solace when it is all over. I really do.

This day is almost over. In about an hour, it will fade into the past, into the history of my life. Will this day lose its significance to me at some point? Will I forget what July 8 represents as a part of my history, as a part of me where I was happy and in love? I don’t think I will. New dates and new histories are ready to be made. New loves will come, of that I am absolutely positive. But that doesn’t erase the past and what to remember from that past. It is written in the pages of that tome that resides in my mind, the one that is still being written on a daily basis. I have been known to read the same book several times. Especially if it is a book that I love and enjoy the story it tells. This book is no different. The early parts of it become dusty and I will thumb back through from time to time to make myself remember the characters and plots that set the basis for the ending of the story. I have to. If not, the rest of the story will never make sense.