Today is my wedding anniversary. It has been 18 years since I married my best friend at the San Souci in Sea Cliff, NY. 18 years since the music literally stopped playing during our first dance, due to a technical error on the D.J.’s computer. 18 years since we danced our first dance not to the Harry Connick Jr. song that was planned, but to our incredible friends and family saying: “1,2,3…. 1,2,3….”, and then holding up scores for our performance on cue cards when it was over. 18 years since Don and I sat on the hotel room bed still in our wedding attire, late in the evening after the festivities were over, and he looked in my eyes with tears and said: “thank you for giving me a family.” 18 long and short years since one of the most magical days that I will always hold close with love.

Nobody can really understand the sadness and loneliness and emptiness that comes on your wedding anniversary each year, when the person you married is forever dead. There is a longing that just lives and aches in your heart, in your being, on this day. It seems that whatever you do or don’t do, or however you spend this day, nothing really gets rid of that ache. There are some things that help the ache to lessen a bit. For the first few years after Don’s sudden death, I spent my wedding anniversaries having lunch or dinner with friends to celebrate him, and I would go out to Sea Cliff, spend some time at the wedding venue just remembering, and spend some time on the Long Island Sound – the beautiful body of water that was/is across the street from the venue, and where we took some of our wedding photos. Doing this gave me some sort of ritual, made me feel close to Don, and gave me a chance to once again be in the place where so much love was shared that day, in that space, with about 100 wonderful friends and family.

After I moved out of NYC about 8 years ago, I was no longer able to spend my wedding anniversary at the place where we married, because life and money and NY is a 4.5 hour drive from where I live here in Massachusetts. Oh, and then pandemic too, so no trips to NY during that entire time. It was really hard trying to find other ways, for all those years, to spend that day. That ache would return for a few days in late October, and then I would just continue on with life.

This year, I was determined to get back there again, and so I made a quick overnight weekend trip to NYC, centered around my wedding anniversary, and meeting up with a few old college friends for a birthday dinner reservation and mini-reunion of sorts. I also had lunch with my best friend Sarah, who still lives in NY with her husband Julio. It started to become a tradition to meet Sarah for dinner on my wedding anniversary, after going to Sea Cliff by myself to remember, reflect, and feel the love.

I drove straight from Massachusetts to Long Island to meet Sarah first, where we had a lovely lunch together and chatted each others ears off, as always. Her and I could talk for 4 hours straight, and it NEVER feels like enough time. We always feel rushed when we are heading out, like: “oh but we forgot to talk about this, and we didnt even get to this, and …. oh well. Next time.” After leaving her, I headed over to what used to be The San Souci, but is now The Sea Cliff Manor. I had emailed the new owners (they have now been there for about 7 years) to let them know I got married there 18 years ago, that my husband died 13 years ago, and that I’d be stopping by if it was okay.

When I drove onto the street where the venue is, the water in the bay somehow looked more shimmering than I remember it, and when I drove up the driveway to the venue, there was a huge “sign” with a drawing of a rainbow on it, that said: “Sea Cliff Love.” I don’t know the story behind that sign, but for me, it was the most perfect and welcoming thing I could have seen. When I went inside, the owners shook my hand, expressed their sorrow for my loss, and then gave me a tour of the place. They had made some changes over the past few years, including a adding a new bar area and speak-easy, new lighting, an outdoor patio area for cocktail hour options, and so much more. They could not have been kinder to me, and I felt all of that love from 18 years ago rushing back once more. I told them the story of me and Don dancing to no music “right here on this floor”, and I told them about our “Christmas in October” wedding theme, and how we gave our guests wooden soldier ornaments, homemade gingerbread men cookies, and a CD filled with songs we both loved, (plus christmas songs) – all stuffed into mini-stockings. My time there was met with such friendliness, and they told me they hope to see me again next year, and that they would put it in their calendars.

Walking in the sand across the street and watching the small waves crash and the wind gust around me, I felt such a sense of peace and joy and love. Big, big love. For those tiny moments in time, I was able to get pieces of Don back again. I was able to really feel the magic in what we had, and in what will always remain. I was able to feel such profound thankfulness, to have been loved in such a way, and to have been part of such a wondrous day, and a beautiful relationship.

That love will last until forever, and I will always be able to grab onto that magic again, in the sand and in the water and in the spaces of those rooms, in a tiny little town called Sea Cliff.

Thanks for reading.