Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Yesterday would have been my parents' 42nd wedding anniversary. February 6, 1970 was the start of my parents' journey together, the beginning of their story. I look at their wedding photos now and think about the fact that they had no idea what the road held before them. I am sure they figured there would be ups and downs, joys and sorrows, but they certainly didn't foresee the end happening as it did. And I suppose their story isn't truly over because it lives on in me and my children.
I caught myself thinking about them a lot throughout the day. It felt strange that this particular date has meant so much to them over the last four decades and now it is just another day. Not only was it their wedding anniversary, but it was the day they brought me home from the hospital in 1977. They used to say that I was the best anniversary present they ever received.
When I lost my mom, I thought the big holidays without her would be the hardest. Things like Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter. And I'll admit, they were a little hard for me, but most people are in a festive mood during those holidays. Just about everyone says, "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy Thanksgiving!" so it is easy to get swept up in the happy holiday spirit. Somehow that made those holidays a little easier.
It's the personal dates that have been the hardest. Dates like October 30th (my mom's birthday) or February 6th (my parents' anniversary), that have been the most difficult to endure. Not too many other people know the significance of those dates, so the world just speeds on by like those days are nothing special. I don't blame anyone for that, but it makes those days seem extra lonely. Where they used to be celebration, there is now nothing but quiet.
But I won't forget. I hold those days dear in my heart.