Memories

Dear Dazzy,

Here I sit in your home office, in your old computer chair, typing away while I answer email, post to BB's and write to you via this blog. I have been out and about all day, came home in time to make dinner, and now am planning some more things to do while in MEL, on my journey to a new normal.

I found things today in the house that broke me heart, yet made me smile at the same time. Our blue wedding goblets-the glass has bubbles in it, yet the stems are clear.
The bowl of the glass is the same brilliant blue we have in out TX home in curtains and pillows and paintings. I will pack these and take them there and put them in the kitchen cupboard near the sink; way out of my reach, but not out of sight.

Every time I open that cupboard, I will see them and remember the amazingly romantic time we had on our wedding day/night. Next week will mark what would have been six years of anniversaries. My tears can't help but fall when I feel the deja vu happening all around me-I am here in Oz, I have been 'round to see friends, I have had dim sim and tim tams and look up agog at the different star patterns late at night...

This time back in 2002, we were waiting for the twins and Kath USA to arrive. We had wedding lists and details to attend to and all was right in our universe.
We were making huge plans for the rest of our lives-to be lived together as husband and wife. We were madly in love and it showed.

Most of all we were happy.

I have your Kangool cap packed now as well-the black one that you are wearing in the photo on the opening page of this blog. One of my fave pix, that one; I love the beret-its so you, so cool, so worldly and artsy and handsome-it's a symbol, to me, of your artistic abilities, which never ceased to amaze anyone around you.

I also found those lil star candle holders-the crystal ones we used on our wedding table. I can see us "fluffing" the decor the day before when we went to settle the bill. We chose stars as a "theme"-even though we don't so themes-because we never got to see the same ones when we lived apart. Hopeless romantics, eh?

Then there was the magazine I sent you so many years ago, with the redone house that looked just like the Box Hill house( ok, so our house is still in the "before" stage, lol, poor thing. It was still in the nightstand drawer.

Still had my sticky note on it!" Babe, this is what the house will look like when we are done with it..."

How can a stupid sticky note still be here honey but you aren't?
Damn, that's not fair.

So, today Andrew and I went to Footscray and Brooklyn and the Docklands and over the Westgate bridge into Port Melbourne. We ate Vietnamese( beautiful stuff, not unlike Genroku)and I took photos and I looked at the beach with longing, remembering how you took me there-first time I had been back to a beach since I had moved to Texas.
We collected shells while you snapped a zillion pix of me, of us, of life.
I have the biggest grin ever in every single pix. So do you.

I still have those shells in a glass cylinder in our bedroom, back in TX.

I arrange them and rearrange them and when they are in my palm I feel the bright Aussie winter sun on my face and I can see the wind blowing the seagulls over the water and I remember the white down vest I wore and the flat white coffees we had at the Londoner Cafe right on the beach-

Those shells are my touchstones for a life that was filled with love in a form that I had never felt before.

Tonight, as I was cooking, for one brief moment I had that feeling that you were just down at the shops picking something upto go with our meal-fresh bread, a great bottle of wine, some kind of fun dessert-and while I was stir frying the veggies, I looked out of the big kitchen window every few minutes, and I watched as the winter sun slowly slid behind the treetops and the roof lines, the purple twilight enveloping it all, yin to the sun's yang.

The thought that our life together was just like the sunrise and sunset today was intriguing.

Dawn was when we first met.

At our zenith, we married. We were happy and eager for our future to unfold.

Now the twilight has separated us-and I am lost in the darkness of my emotions.

I am not afraid, just sad; aware that I will never have you in my arms again is a terribly heartbreaking acknowledgement.

The moon, however, is full and bright tonight. It illuminates the darkness. The memory of you-of us-is the moon in my night sky, honey.
You brought such light to my heart-how can I ever say thank you enough to make it worthwhile?

I knew this trip would be emotionally difficult. That's OK. I can handle it. I am hoping to come out of this period in my life better for all that has happened-but some days I wonder...

Tomorrrow I will have a different set of things to do, but they all revolve aorund you, babe. When I make dinner tomorrow night, I will again pretend for a second or two that you are only down at the store/the gym/Andrew's and will be back home really soon...

I will always be waiting for you to come home, honey. On both sides of the planet.

Love you Dazzy. Always.
Kisses, Wifey.