I’ll start with the joy part first and try to keep the pain part brief.
It was just a wonderful, wonderful weekend with my beloved. We had plenty of time to test out our new sexual findings and it wasn’t just a fluke. Oh, hallelujah!
He went with me to run some errands today, which I usually do by myself. He told me a story about his coworker getting hit by a semi-truck because she was looking at her phone. She’s fine, thank goodness. But it was absolutely hilarious that after that incident, they had a company-wide meeting about safety, during which they had footage of her walking out in front of the truck playing on a loop. Maybe it’s just us and our shared warped sense of humor, but we were both absolutely cracking up over that.
Just getting to be with him was so good. So good. I feel like we’re connecting again like we did when we first got together 28 years ago, only now with the added benefit of everything we’ve learned about each other and ourselves since then.
We’ve got our new little kitten and that brings joy to our household, too. My husband figured out today that the kitten meows very loudly when he’s hungry—but my youngest son figured out the day before that the kitten likes to be spoon-fed. So my husband was spoon-feeding this tiny, four-pound kitten, and it just melted my heart.
I’ve somehow lost two clothing sizes in the past few months without really doing anything (except a half-assed version of intermittent fasting), so that feels good and gives me more confidence, too.
My son’s girlfriend also picked up a Starbucks reusable cup for me that I’ve mentioned wanting for a while. It’s a giant cup and technically it was for bisexual pride. While I am bisexual, I just really liked the colors of the cup.
Now, the sad. After such a wonderful weekend with my husband, thoughts crept back in that he’s going to die. Hopefully not soon! I hope we get to enjoy this renewed phase of our marriage for a lot longer.
I was watching a rerun of The Golden Girls last night after I finished my work. At first, I thought the episode I was watching was so dumb and ridiculous, I took a break from it to wash the dishes and scoop the litter boxes.
Then I went back to finish the episode and I found out that it was only so ridiculous because it was the character Blanche’s dream. It was revealed that apparently it’s a frequently recurring dream, in which her dead husband has come back to life.
And OMG, I just cried and cried at the end. Someday, that’s going to be me and I desperately don’t want it to be. It makes me cry just now to even write about it.
Then my youngest came in to talk to me about college and in particular, his worry that the cat he shares his room with will die while he’s away at college. This is unfortunately not an unfounded worry because she’s 16 years old. (By contrast, one of my other cats is 18 years old and seems much more spry.)
I told him about how we plan to handle it if it happens and if he can’t get home in time, and reassured him that we won’t leave her alone.
Then, he told me that he wants his next tattoo to be a tiny Sakura blossom on his wrist—to symbolize and memorialize my husband, of course. I’ve already got one Sakura blossom tattoo and am getting another one in September.
Sakura blossoms are significant for two reasons. One is that my husband loves Japanese culture and Sakura is the Japanese national flower.
The other is that Sakura blossoms also represent the transience of life, since they only bloom for a very short time.
I wouldn’t be totally surprised if we all end up getting Sakura blossom tattoos to memorialize him.
But for now, I have to focus on the fact that he’s still here. It would be pretty silly if I tortured myself with thoughts of his death and he lives for 5 or even 10 more years, and I feel optimistic that this may be the case.
Things are so, so wonderful now. I just have to challenge myself to stay present in this moment.