Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Today. 09/08/07.

Today is our anniversary. Three years.
Just this morning Lily was identifying family members in wedding photos that I have framed and she noticed one was of Alan and Tio and Tia and Alan's friends in a subway station. Dubway? Choo choo dubway? Dubway. She is making so many connections and identifying everything in the world around her so she was ecstatic to see them in tuxes at the 102nd Street station. It was a very warm day, not unlike today, and Alan in his usual fashion insisted they'd train it to the Gatehouse, a landmark building in Harlem that had been around for decades but was hosting it's first wedding ever, for us. It was the happiest day of our lives, even Alan in his modesty was calmly excited - he had his Marx Brothers cuff links on and had made an impressive recovery from back surgery and some radiation treatments just a month and a half earlier. He danced, he played guitar and he sang. Just this one time, Alan stepped into the limelight and I'm so glad he did. It was an evening to remember.
Amazing friends and family and food and music. Love all around.

So much has happened since then and just yesterday I was reflecting on how difficult life continues to be. I have never felt so alone, isolated, and disoriented. And there is nothing anyone can do, it is internal scarring that keeps me at sea, no longer treading water but feeling as though I don't belong to any shore. My concrete world is life with Lily - she grounds me and fills me with warmth and unfettered happiness. But when I am not with her, I am lost. It is an agonizing feeling. So painful and so dull all at the same time. Two years out and I can do so much more, function so much more ably, but the disconnect is frightening. And I wonder if it will ever change. Missing Alan is excruciating, still. Just the other night as I read to Lily at bedtime I found myself looking down at us just as I hope Alan does. We were giggling, Lily was impressing me with her ability to identify pine cones, frogs, leaves, feathers and acorns in a favorite story and it was a bright and beautiful moment. I hope he saw it, and was able to see how happy we are together but also know how painful it is for me to not have him there in bed with us to complete the picture. He belongs with us.
We all belong together.

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