I feel like I’m still waiting for her to walk though that door while I timidly busy myself to trick time into passing. My bold forward movement in life has been replaced with a time warp of what-the-hell-do-I-do-now. But, damn it, it’s been three years! How could it possibly be three years since the last time I held her hand?
I feel like I’ve failed in so many ways. I can’t help but think that she’d be kicking my ass from sunrise to sunset because of all I haven’t done. Making it worse, it’s so easy to compare my progress (or lack thereof) to those who have moved forward in ways that I look at with wonder as if what they’ve done is magical because it can’t possibly be real. Yet it is; they’ve made progress in ways I haven’t. “Ergo,” (said with my best arrogant professor-esk lilt) “I must be a failure” (making sure I raise my eyebrows, squint my eyes and look down my nose at myself.)
Yeah, screw that. But I fight back with less punch than I’d prefer. Days can still be difficult and despite all my blowing, I don’t have much of an enthusiastic wind blowing my sails…. Yet. But I’m certainly not a failure. I’m still just trying to find my center.
It’s interesting to hear about how people observe their loved one’s Angel Days. Each tradition is so unique and steeped in meaningful reverence. Yet, I don’t do anything specific. In fact, I’ve been careful thus far to prevent accidentally creating a ritual. Maybe at some point I’ll find comfort in one but for now, like I’ve written before, May 4 really is just another day, just like all that have come before it. All are tough and every single day I miss her so I don’t really need a “special” day to remind me my sweet wife died.
However this year I’m taking a liberty: I’m taking the day off and I’m going on a long motorcycle ride. There’s just something about riding on two wheels that quiets the mind. Two-wheeled Prozac and a long road in the country. Yes, please, I’ll take some of that, thank you.