Sunday, June 22, 2008

Happy Anniversary June 23


Oh, honey. How sad I am today. It should be six years of celebrating our married life together. In Oz, it is already the 23rd-no matter what the computer posting says...

Instead, I am sitting in you computer chair posting about my heartache over spending this day alone-without you to bring me flowers, without a fab dinner out complete with champers, without laughing and joking and planning for the next six years, and the next six, and the next...

So Andrew and I went to the Windsor and all throughout the city/suburbs/Box Hill today; kind of like a Daz tour. We found a NY Bagel place and had vegemite and cream cheese for tea and I only lost it when we walked into the Windsor hotel, where you an I spent our first hours as Mr. and Mrs W.

My tears flow freely today. I am OK with that.
I know myself in the grief journey now, a bit more anyway, and I know this wave won't last forever.

It has to wash over me with its
saltwater tears
and then it will lessen.

One thing that doesn't lesson is my love for you.
Just because you are not physically here does not mean that I have to stop.
That is not possible for me to comprehend.

Six years ago tonight, we married. We promised forever and you told me you would always make my life interesting! Larrikin...:)

We were surrounded by family and friends and most of all, love.

That love sustains me through some of the darker parts of my mourning and grief, and I truly know that love has no boundaries-its as infinite as the stars in the universe.

Stars. We both had a fascination with the stars above; the heavens, the universe, space travel, sci-fi, all that ilk. We used to
remark about the different star patters that we could see from our respective homes, and our wish was a simple one-to live in the same place, and look at the same stars on the same night-together.

Always together.

The other night, on the way to the stores, I looked up and saw the Southern Cross high in the sky , close to the luminescent full moon. It was beautiful.

I then wondered how many times you must have stood in this very spot, half out of the driveway, arguing with the metal gate that ( of course) doesn't close properly, only to turn your eyes to the brightness of the moon through the eucalyptus tree that stands guard over the little house on Second Avenue.

It made me feel connected to you, in whatever dimension you now inhabit.
I told you aloud that the stars were gorgeous, and that I loved you and missed you.

I even think you may have heard me, for right then, a single tree leaf fell onto my shoulder.

Just one.
Just at the exact moment I spoke to you, with no wind or was sweet, babe.

So off to the store, I wandered around the mall ( proniounced MELL in Oz speak, lol) and into the bookstore. Not hard to figure that I would go there, eh babe?
On a table of poetry books, one caught me eye-probably because the binding and cover were a rich shade of
midnight blue.

That lapis hued cover also showcased a smattering of stars and was titled:

count me the stars

It was nothing short of beautiful, and the poetry in it spoke to me-of you, and of our love.
While the whole things is wonderous, my favorite follows:

count me the stars on your ceiling this night-
those trapped inside the cracks and webs
on purple pages


those reflected in your sleepy eyes
scattered in your lashes
those that breathe and dance
and those that calm the view

count me the stars
on you ceiling this night

count me the stars

Anyone who has ever been in this house knows about your bedroom ceiling, LOL where a huge amount of stick on glow-in-the-dark stars, planets, and whatnot live. It's whimsical and silly and oh-so-you, Dazzy.

When I would come to Oz, we would lie in bed and count them, laughingly trying to out count the other, doing it in silly accents or fake foreign languages-we had so much fun with those stupid pieces of phosphorescent plastic toys that are really made for kids.

Reading that poem was so amazing, I knew I had to have the book.
It will come to TX with me, and sit on my shelf of VIP books-and when I am very old, and need to relive a moment in time when I was so happy, so loved, so content with life, I will open the pages of this midnite blue universe of words and let their light spill forth and embrace my soul, once again thinking of us in our warm and comfy bed, counting the stars on your ceiling ...

counting the stars

Happy Anniversary Dazzy-you will always be the man of my dreams.
Love you. Always.
Kisses, Wifey

1 comment:

Sari said...

Sue, thinking of you and Dazzy today. Wishing you peace and strength and good memories.