St. Patrick’s Day was/is Tony and my wedding anniversary. This year, we should have been celebrating our 19th. Instead, we are always stuck at 14. Walking through the wedding anniversary grief always hits a little different. It is a striking reminder of our widowhood coupled with their death.
The other big days, like their birthday or the day they passed, impacts everyone they were close to. Those days represent our person’s beginning and end.
But the wedding anniversary? It is a day in the middle(ish) of their life where they chose you. And you chose them. Yes, it’s two families merging but at the end of the day, it’s only about the two of you saying yes till death. Literally.
I started the day with general melancholy, but I was okay. Then I went to run some errands. Suddenly, being out of the house, away from the kids, and Taylor Swift playing in the car, set the tears in motion.
Then I made a small list of the ways I miss him.
I miss the…
way he looked at me.
wholeness of our love.
life we built together.
security of his hugs.
Father is/way to our children.
I even miss being annoyed at him (sometimes).
All day, I craved one good hug, the kind with some real umpf behind it. One I could have gotten from Tony. I did get a few hugs from friends and the kids, but it never quite scratches the itch.
