The First "Angelversary"

Oh, my Sweet, Sweet Michael,

Today has been so painful.  I cannot believe that an entire year has passed since I last heard your voice, since I last held you in my arms.  Where have I been for that year?  It passed in the blink of an eye.Where have you been?  It's impossible that you're not here with me.

What is it about the calender that makes one day harder than another?  You were just as gone yesterday as you are today, yet today is filled with constant reminders.  Looking at the clock, thinking of what we were doing at this time last year.  Memories just flooding my mind.  And now that the hour of your death has passed on the day of your death, I can no longer say "this time last year we were doing....?".  Now, I look at the clock and I think "This time last year, Michael had died".  It is the anniversary of the first hours of the beginning of the pain.

It seems that people think there's something "magical" about one year.  You should grieve for one year.  He's been gone a year.  It's time to get on with your life.  But now I know, like so many others have already found out, that the one year mark does not mean the end of pain.  The one year mark brings constant reminders of the pain.  It is like hitting the "refresh" button on your memories.

How many gallons of tears do you think I've cried in one year?  How many times have I had the breath knocked out of me by realizing, really knowing that you are gone?  How many times have I felt that I could not stand the suffering even one more second?

Today I went to the ball park.  I walked down the stairs and sat on the team bench where you sat so often.  I touched the fence that you used to hang onto when you were waiting your turn at bat.  I closed my eyes and I yelled "way to go Michael" and I watched you hit that ball and run the bases.  I could hear the people cheering you on, could see Tru running up and down the hill.  And I screamed for you to come back!!!!

When I finally left the ball park, I went to the cemetery.  The cemetery was beautiful, all the flowers were fresh, the flags lined the streets.  There were so many people there and I felt so resentful.  I felt their intrusion on my pain.  This wasn't a day that my mind could sympathize with their loss because I was just barely hanging on with my own.

I sat in the grass beside you.  My heart breaking a little more with each memory.  It took all my self control to swallow the sobs that wanted to escape into the world.  And then I felt peace.  I looked up and everyone was gone from "our side" of the cemetery.  We were alone.  Just you and me. I felt like you had done that for me.  Like you had found a way to give us some privacy.   I played the music that we loved.  I closed my eyes and danced with you.  Oh, how I loved dancing with you. I stayed with you until the first raindrops fell.  I wanted to stay there in the rain, to let it wash me away.  Hoping that it would cleanse the pain, that it would restore me somehow.  Instead, I told you that I love you.  That I would always love you and I walked away.

Tonight I read our emails.  I read from the time we were looking for our house until the email where you first said "I love you Mrs. Fisher".  I read the excitement of our upcoming wedding.  The sweet, silly, funny things that we said to each other.  Our life and the plans that we had for our future preserved in a file on AOL.  We were so happy and so excited.  All our dreams were coming true and now you're gone, Baby.  I read about the problems we worked through, the plans we made to meet, the times we made love, the times we missed each other so much.  And I remember those nights spent without you and in our emails, we promised that we would never be apart again.  And Oh, my God, that pain of being separated for days at a time, is nothing compared to having spent an entire year without you, Michael.

I feel so broken tonight, Baby.  All the tears that I have held back in these recent months come freely now.  I want to SCREAM at the top of my lungs.  I want you to come home so badly.  I want our life back, I want our dreams and our plans and I want to grow old with you.  I wasn't finished, Sweetie, I just wasn't finished.

One year ago today I wrote:  Tonight, my Sweet Michael was called home to be with our Savior. He had such a beautiful wonderful heart, but it just couldn't keep going. My heart is broken and Tru is so sad. Please pray for us. Thank you all for the way that you have held us up in prayer tonight. I don't think I could've made it through the past hours without it. Michael and I had a beautiful love for each other that was precious and rare. He is my world and I'm not sure how I can stay here with him so far away, but I know that my Jesus will see me through.

Yet, here I still am.  I still don't know how I'm able to stay here with you so far away.  I miss you so much, Baby.  I just miss you so much.

John 14:1-4 
Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going. (NIV)