Three.

Dear Babe,

It's been three months since you were here. Three months since I last woke up in your arms. Three months since life as I knew it was taken away and replaced with something completely different - in the blink of an eye. The blink of any eye. Such a trite saying that you never really think about. But that's how it happened. I arrived at the hospital three months ago knowing exactly who I was - your wife - and I blinked and you were gone. Just like that. Just like that the path of our life together diverged and you were on one side and I on the other.

I will never get to touch you again. I will never get to hear you talk to me again. I will never wake up beside your warmth again. I will never create life with you. I will never hear you call me sweetie, or eat one of your lovingly made breakfasts, or dance with you in the kitchen again. This is just a small sample of all of the never agains that I have to come to terms with.

Sometimes I get so enraged that I feel like I will implode and be reduced to a puddle of screams and tears and anxiety. Sometimes I feel like I am choking on the failed hopes and dreams that I had for us. I can't breathe until I close my eyes and conjure you up. "Shhhhhhhh," you say, just like you used to when I was scared or anxious or worked up. "Shhhhhhh and breathe and look around. Everything is okay. You are okay." And then I wipe away the tears like you did. And I breathe. And I get up. I won't fail you; I refuse.

Sometimes I feel so lonely that I can't remember what it ever felt like to have you there. Sometimes I feel like I've never been anything but alone. I lay in bed and reach out to where you should be and my fingertips turn to icicles from the isolation. I feel homesick for you as I lay my head down to sleep. You're there but you're not. I sit up in the middle of the night expecting to hear you breathing but all I hear is the fan that you hated that I kept on. I pray that I will find love again so I can feel the beauty of true partnership I've been missing since you've been gone. I also can't imagine ever giving that much of my heart to anyone that isn't you. How could I? You were my forever.

Sometimes I'm angry with you. I feel bad even saying it. How can I be angry with someone who isn't even here? I think back to one of the times when I felt so unworthy; I couldn't even give you the one thing my body was supposed to give you naturally. Oh how I cried and asked you if you would leave me if I couldn't give you babies. And then you cried. You cried and told me that you loved me always and that we made our own family. And you would never leave me. But then you did. And you never were a liar but that was the biggest lie ever told, you just didn't know it. When I saw you in the hospital I begged you. Pleaded. "Please please please please. Stay with me." But you left anyway. I know you didn't want to, but that doesn't change the fact that I was left behind.

Sometimes I feel so grateful that I'm sure I was touched by the hand of God. Not always and not for long periods of time but every once in awhile I feel so incredibly lucky that I'm sure there is a higher power. So many never get to bask in the unconditional love that we made together. So many never get to see their best selves reflected in their lover's eyes. So many never get the gift of feeling truly at peace - even if it's fleeting, even if it cannot stay. I got to look into the eyes of my very own guardian angel and for that I will be forever blessed. You gave me that. You were my blessing.

Sometimes I feel so strong that I think there's nothing in this world that I cannot do. In the mornings, on the bad days, when I stare off and contemplate not taking a step - not doing one damn thing - I do it anyway. It seems almost ridiculous that the world is still moving - that minutes continue to turn to hours which turn to days and then weeks and now even months. It's pure madness. But I launch myself into it - sometimes I even revel in it. If I can survive losing you, I can survive anything. There is nothing that the universe can do that it has not already done by taking you away. I find solace in that. And hope. And sometimes even joy. Joy that I have loved and been loved and can find my way through the darkness. Sometimes with humor. Sometimes with grace. Always with love.

Ever thine.
Ever mine.
Ever ours.

Love,

Amanda

Things I Miss - Your Hands

Dear Babe,

Your hands didn't just hold my heart.

They were my favorite physical representation of you. Even now, I can still close my eyes and conjure up images of them. Still and then moving, clean but a little dirty. All of it. They were undeniably yours; just as loving and warm and expressive as you were. Both rough and smooth at once. Strong and capable, they provided endless stability and a straight line right to your heart.

Your fingers were long and perfect for entwining with mine. They were the perfect length for brushing the hair out of my eyes or wiping away an errant eyelash or tear. Your palms would sometimes be calloused from work but they never seemed to tug on my skin. Maybe I'm remembering things more sweetly in hindsight but I don't recall a time when I relished anything more than your touch.

I remember the rush of flutters the first time you held my hand.

I remember the calculation of how you held a dart in your hand. Fingers wrapped artfully around the metal; when you released, it was like watching a bullet meeting its target - fast but with purpose.

I remember the steadiness of your hand as you signed the papers that gave us our home.

I remember the dust and dirt and wounds that covered them when building our home into what it is now. Those hands brought the sleepy house out of the past and into our dreams for the future.

I remember the cool touch of your palms against my forehead when I was sick. Sometimes we would lay like that for hours; you outstretched across the bed, me curled into you, head in your with your hands against my head. You said your fingers would take the sick out of me and put it into you. Like a child I believed. Like a child your hands were all that could make me feel better.

I remember the juxtaposition of the cool of metal with the warmth of your soul as you placed the ring on my finger that meant I was promised to you (as if I could have been promised to anyone else - as if there was any greater promise than our love). You shook slightly and I was tickled that you could still be nervous after so long - after love and our cats and a house and our dreams.

I remember how you gripped my hand tightly at the end of the aisle as we said our vows. They were sweating and you wiped your thumb across the back of my own hand to transfer some of the dampness. I suppressed my laughter as I looked into your eyes and they begged me with a twinkle not to give you away. After we exchanged rings and had walked past our loved ones as husband and wife, you looked down at your hand trying to absorb the magnitude of what the metal meant.

I remember reaching out for your hand as I slumped to the floor after the thousandth negative pregnancy test. You always held me up; you never would let me bear the weight by myself. I imagined your hands touching my pregnant stomach. I imagined your hands cradling a crying newborn. I imagined your hands teaching our son how to dribble a basketball, how to swing a bat, how to shoot a dart. I still do. I wonder if I ever will stop.

I remember the feeling of your hand in mine when I woke up on the last day. I never liked to cuddle when sleeping - it made me feel suffocated - but I smiled to myself because you always found a way to sneak a snuggle in. The alarm went off but you kept sleeping and I gently bit the knuckle of your middle finger to wake you up. Your eyes flew open and you acted mad but then started tickling me until I couldn't breathe.

I remember my eyes catching on your hands in the hospital room, after you were gone. They weren't yours anymore. They weren't mine. Standing there, everything was the same - every scar, down to the very last hair. Identical. In that moment I could rattle off any simple fact about you - you always kept Juicy Fruit in your pocket, you knew the words to every Peter Cetera song, you would travel for hours for the perfect margarita - but I couldn't remember what your touch felt like. My first panic attack was when I feared I would never remember again.

One of the best things that has happened since I lost you was when I woke up remembering your hands and your warmth. It may sound silly, even trivial, in the myriad of things that made you my Tom that I could remember instead.. But I had to write it down. There was nothing more joyful than your tickles. There was nothing more romantic than those sweaty palms on June 16th. There was nothing stronger than our hands joined in unity. Because there was nothing safer than my heart being in your hands.

Love,

Amanda

Going to the Chapel

Dear Babe,

I remember the peace that overcame me as I walked down the aisle toward you.

The months leading up to our wedding day were a flurry of house projects and tulle. It was a whirlwind that left both of us reeling at times. We clutched each other for dear life through a storm of nails, insulation, fabric flowers, and catering. We questioned ourselves often. We dreamed of disappearing and coming home married. Elope, elope, elope. We almost did, until the day you told me that we would both regret it if our families and friends weren’t there to witness it.

I loved you so much in that moment. Not that there was ever a moment of me not loving you; but in that moment, I saw how willing you were to try to make me happy. The wedding was always my dream. The marriage was our dream. But you let me have both. That was you. That was what you did.

In the days leading up to the wedding, I found myself crying a lot. There was so much emotion welling up inside me; I could feel it in my chest. Physical symptoms of a love that I never dreamed that I would have. I wrote my new name-to-be everywhere. In my day planner, on receipts, even on my mother’s refrigerator door. We had been together, known each, for so long, my love, that I almost couldn’t believe our time had really and truly come. I looked forward to being your wife more than you could ever know. You made my heart sing songs of a future rooted in truth and kindness; I was never scared when by your side.

Two nights before our wedding, the last night we spent together before the ceremony, I thought back to when I was a nineteen year old girl who had just met you. I stayed awake for hours just going through our story in my mind. You were sleeping soundly – you always did – and didn’t wake up even though I tried to wake you. Instead, I watched you sleeping. You looked like a boy, so peaceful and content. I remember hoping it was me that urged the corners of your sleepy lips into a smile. I snuggled into you and inhaled the smell of my future. I whispered my new name out loud, trying it on. “Mrs. Valentine.” I fell asleep with my hand in yours.

I can’t quite articulate (surprising, I know) my feelings as the chapel doors opened and I saw you standing at the other end of the aisle. It can only be described as coming home. I saw ahead of me everything that my life had led up to and all that lay ahead. We locked eyes and I saw the best version of myself in your eyes. And I knew you were my home, my sanctuary, and my future.

If I had known what would happen, I would have rushed up the aisle to you so we didn’t have to waste one single moment. I was blessed to have you as my husband for two years, one month, and 8 days.  It was the honor of my life to join you in the dance of our marriage. It was everything that has been or ever will be.

When my time comes, I imagine that I will enter Heaven through those chapel doors and you will be standing at the end of the aisle waiting, once again, to take my hand in yours.

Love,

Amanda

In Dreams

Dear Babe,

I dreamed of you again last night.

You've been visiting me in my sleep for the past couple of weeks and it's been increasing over the last few days. At first the dreams made me sad because I woke up not knowing what was real, not knowing where dreams ended and life without you began. Now I look forward to them; to seeing you and hearing your voice and feeling you close by. I look forward to sleep these days - not as an escape from life, you see, but rather as an opportunity to include you in this new life I'm beginning.

Some dreams allow me to see you and to drink in your face; others, like the one last night, I only get to hear your voice. It's funny how clearly I can hear you in this dream world - the voice is unmistakably yours. Down to the syllable, I can hear you just as well as I used to when you were sitting right next to me. I even correct your grammar in my dreams. It seems that even when sleeping, I can't kick the habits that used to drive you bonkers. Sorry, my love.

Last night I dreamed that I couldn't find you and I dialed your number. You answered right away. I asked you where you were, where you went, why you weren't with me anymore. "I'm here," you said. "I'm not with you but I'm here." In my dream you had left me to be with another but you wouldn't name her. "I can't be with you but I'm still with you." I yelled at you then, begging you to stop speaking in rhymes. You told me that you had to go but I wouldn't let you hang up. Instead I began reciting mundane activities, small victories I had earned:

"Babe, I brought the mattress outside by myself!"

"Atticus and Vera are best friends, you should see how they play!"

"I made it through a day at work without crying, without breaking down!"

"I've been wearing your socks again, but not your favorite ones, only the ones you said were girly colors!"

You laughed - oh, how it sounded like perfect music! I got to hear that laugh that I've been longing to hear for so long now. I kept going, sputtering pure nonsense, knowing somehow in my heart that I didn't have you much longer. "I have to go, I have to go, I have to go." You were firm but I heard the softness in your voice - you didn't want to leave me just as much as I didn't want you to go.

As soon as I knew you had hung up, I woke up to my alarm. I had tears on my cheeks but a smile on my lips. I replayed our conversation in my mind for a few minutes before turning on the light. Turning on the light meant that it was over and - even now - that transition between my dreamworld with you and real life as I know it is hard.

I find myself during waking hours thinking of things that I want to say to you when I see you again during the night. Things that I want. Things that I hope for. Things that I want you to know. Things that I hope will fly on the wings of my dreams and find their way to you, beyond the realm of the living.

Babe, I still sleep in your favorite Patriots t-shirt.

Babe, I never keep my clothes on the floor by the laundry basket anymore.

Babe, there are more people on this Earth that love us than I ever dreamed possible.

Babe, I'm working on the house, trying to make it look as good as we hoped when we first signed those papers. I will never give up on it.

Babe, I am getting stronger every day. I think you would be proud of me.

Babe, I love you every day.

Babe, I will be okay.

Until the next moon rises and I see you again,

Amanda

Do You Remember? - Camping with Bears

Dear Babe,

Do you remember our first camping trip? How could you not? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. You should be proud in the first place that you got me to camp. Me, the girl of pink and bows and hot showers and down pillows, sleeping on the ground in a tent!I remember how you asked me if I would camp with you. You were uncharacteristically quiet. You started by telling me how you loved a campsite in New Hampshire that had a lake that was cleaned all the time so I wouldn't have to be scared of the fish. Then you asked me what I was doing that weekend. Then you asked if I would go.

We checked into the campsite and I immediately took note of the signs everywhere warning of bears. "Babe, come read this," I shouted as you were unpacking the car. You just laughed. I knew you were too stubborn to believe that a bear would mess with you and I gave up on you coming to read the sign. Instead, I read the sign to you.

WARNING - BEARS

What to Do In Case of  A Bear Sighting:

Speak in LOUD VOICES and slowly back away. DO NOT RUN.

NO FOOD IN TENTS.

The day was hot and we drank beers by the beach listening to the children of the other campsites play and splash. We held hands the entire time, separating only when a bathroom break or new beer was needed. We hardly talked but I remember specifically noting how much deeper I was falling in love with you. This will never end, I remember thinking. Your eyes were closed when I had that thought and I traced your face slowly with the edge of my fingertips, startling you. You almost fell off your beach chair and I laughed until my stomach hurt.

That night we sat by the fire at our campsite and talked about our dreams for the future. Buying a house was at the top of our list. You were afraid of the commitment. You were afraid of losing it somehow. You were afraid that it was too big of a dream. You had never dreamed of things like that, you said. Before me, you never thought of things like buying a house or getting married or having children. You said I changed that. You said I changed you. I told you that you I had never imagined having a relationship or a marriage that could last. I never imagined feeling beautiful in my own skin. I never imagined feeling so loved, so protected. You changed that. You changed me.

We went to sleep long after the rest of the campground did. Our fire was the last to be put out. We both fell asleep quickly in each others arms, in the sleeping bag. I awoke to crunching outside the tent. And snorting. Something big was out there. And it was eating all our food. I shook you so hard and you didn't wake up. You were always such a sound sleeper. I pinched you as hard as I could and you woke up with a start. I put my finger over your lips and whispered fiercely, "Beeeeeaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

You sat up and nervously whispered if I remembered what the sign had suggested we do. I told you if it came any closer I was going to MacGyver it and slit a hole in the back of the tent and back out slowly and get to the car. You laughed and snorted. We were supposed to be quiet. I almost peed my pants. After a few minutes of listening and me crying, you decided that sleep was more important than fear and you quickly fell back to sleep. I hid under the covers with my head burrowed in your nook and tried to sleep. After awhile the noises outside the tent stopped.

In the morning, we emerged from our tent to find that every piece of food had been eaten. Except your spicy Fritos. You were so proud. "Bears don't like spice!" you exclaimed as if that was why you bought them. A person came over from the campsite across from ours. "That was the biggest raccoon I've ever seen!!"

A raccoon? You and I just looked at each other and burst out laughing. I called my sister, ready to go home, convinced it had been a bear. You begged me to stay and I relented. I'm so glad I did because we drove to the Saco river and brought the cooler. You helped me down the hill and then we climbed over rocks until we perched upon a boulder in the middle of the river.

We spent the day there. Some time was spent talking. Some time was spent splashing in the water that pooled around the rocks. The sun was so bright that we looked like we were shining. And maybe we were, from the inside out. There was no talk of responsibilities or work or bills or anything that wasn't pleasant. We were all about joy that day. We were young and in love and so very, very content. I thought my heart would burst. If I close my eyes now, I can still smell the air that day and hear the water splash against the rocks. I can still feel my heart almost bursting.

These are the memories that are getting me through. These are the things that matter. This is what life is; what love is.

I'll never forget.

Love,

Amanda