Three Years Today

I knew this day was coming. It looms large in its approach each year. But this year, the third, was different. Even until yesterday I thought I would get through it more upbeat, more positive, more grateful than the two years before.

Riding on a big emotional high will do that for you.

We just got back from a long weekend celebrating the marriage of two people we hold so dear. It was, hands down, the most spectacular event I've ever had the pleasure of attending. Set on the stunning Amalfi coast. Surrounded by family. Forging new friendships with people who span the globe. Communicating without words when our languages didn't allow for conversation. Eating and drinking like royals. And, best and highest of all, witnessing the union of a couple whose love and appreciation of life and generosity to others knows no bounds. Simply put, magnifico!

Prior to that I got to spend a little time with my mom and step dad, who came all the way up to our new home in Indiana to take care of our boys while we were away. There's nothing quite like seeing your mom for the first time after moving so far away.

And before that, I hosted my oldest friend in our home for a week long visit where we had the rare delight of doing everything, and nothing, together every morning, day, and night.

All these times will be cherished and they filled my soul to bursting with love and gratitude and certainty that I was okay. That I was fortunate enough to receive and give massive amounts of love every single day. So filled was I that I thought today would be different this time. That the high would keep me up and soaring.

But as it turns out, it wasn't enough. It failed in its lift to stop the tears from pouring and my heart from aching on this day. The day that reminds me of losing the man I first loved the most.

Perhaps the highest of highs are only naturally followed by the lowest of lows and the timing worked out just right for me to fall so very far when commemorating this time round the sun without him.

Our youngest saw me crying and tried to shrink away quietly but I called him back with the request of a hug. It's okay to cry, I told him. It's healthy for us. When I told him why I cried he seemed surprised. He's too little to remember him. Or his death. And my heart breaks a little more with that certainty.

So even though it hurts me and it kind of takes my day and my breath away I will always commemorate this day. I will look at pictures. I will tell stories. I will share memories. My boys will know why mommy cries this day. My husband will remember and tell me how sorely my dad is missed. And I will share openly my heart ache with all who knew him so he will never, ever truly go away.