The Two of Us

Now that it's warm out, Lily and I head to the parks as frequently as possible. It is liberating for me to get out, and special for us both to enjoy the outdoors together. I love to watch her look up at the trees, see her fall asleep on a blanket, and sleep soundly after a day in the open air. But yet another hurdle for me now is seeing the many families out doing the very same thing. And by that I mean moms and dads - dads running along side their kids still shaky on their bicycles, families spread out on the grass with bats and gloves and a pizza, parents zigzagging behind a wobbly toddler as they discover all that's around them. Unfortunately for me, the beauty of our experiences together serves as a constant reminder of who's not here. At Whole Foods today I found myself looking at "new baby" cards and of course gravitated to one that said on the cover "Two's Company" - I immediately thought, how perfect for the single parent - and was so comforted that someone had actually thought to create a card with that sentiment. And then I opened it up and it said "Three's a family". I felt like an idiot having fallen for the thought. Yesterday a woman was commenting on how beautiful Lily is and she said to her, "Yes, you're so pretty, you have to go home and tell your dad that!" And that's what I encounter on a daily basis. The reality that our family is different. Having each other is enough, and we are our own family - but seeing conventional, nuclear families, everywhere I turn, and hearing first hand how friends are spending the weekend with their families or planning excursions for the summer months is painful. It's natural to hear it and if Alan were here, we'd be doing the same thing - planning an outing, a getaway or just relishing in parenthood at home in the city. But without him here on days like this, the loneliness feels even more profound. When I walk along the Hudson River, pushing a stroller with the most amazing little being kicking and cooing below, the guilt I feel is gut wrenching, and Alan's absence, still shocking. He should be here, with us. Sailboats glide by, and I hear and see Alan scanning the water for sails belonging to his club. Everywhere is a memory. And Lily, for now, is oblivious to it all.