I'm not going to wish you happy anniversary

I thought this weekend might be a little rough, and it kind of was. Saturday was our anniversary and my birthday. Six years ago, we stood in the cold out at Saint Albans and got married, C just a lima bean in my belly.

Do you remember when we got engaged and chose my birthday for the wedding day? Everyone questioned whether that was a wise decision, didn't I want my birthday to be special, and I said no. I wanted to streamline the celebrations and make it easy to remember. 

The weather was beautiful this weekend. Sunny, seventies. Just like last October, an entire month of clear blue skies and warm days. I think it's strange, that whenever I think back to last October I instantly remember how nice the weather was. I don't instantly remember how you were off work, laying on the couch every day, talking about how life wasn't worth living anymore because you'd gotten a nasty stomach virus that caused you to lose your mind.

My mom and I took the boys to the pumpkin patch on Saturday afternoon. As we walked in, I saw the giant display of pumpkins they put up every year, it kind of looks like an Egyptian pyramid? We have pictures every year in front of that pumpkin monument. No pictures this year.

My mom has been reading the book I had to stop reading, Night Falls Fast. It was too dark for me right now. There were so many pages that were so much about you, it was startling. And then there were so many pages that were too upsetting. Hard to believe that anything could be more upsetting than what we're already dealing with, but it was.

Mom said in reading this book, it's almost like you can see the speeding train heading towards Neil.

I know what she means. As I was reading, there was a certain inevitability about what happened to you that the author comes to. As though there would never have been any other ending to your story.

I don't think I believe that. I know you were impulsive enough that there could have been countless other endings if things had been different. Some of them may have been crazy or ugly, but they would have been different.

So. I sold the roadster on eBay. The buyer is kind of flaky and hasn't paid or arranged transportation yet, but Greg still thinks he will.  If not, I'll try one more time and then wait until next spring. My sense of urgency to do something has waned.

I spent most of Sunday crying again, just feeling sad for you and missing you being alive. I was driving to your favorite store, Costco, when an interview came on NPR that really shook me. One comedian was interviewing another who had tried to commit suicide. The guy said he just wanted to apologize to all the people who loved him for what he tried to do. When asked why, he said here I had all these people who loved me, and I can see now that what I was going to do would transmute all that love into pain.

He was right. I'm glad he didn't do it, and I'm sorry you couldn't see what you were doing to the rest of us while you were escaping from your pain.