remembering the good stuff
today was a pretty emotional day for me. it started out with me trying to find something that i could bring with me to the providence memorial remembrance at 2 pm. this was the second of two annual memorials they did, and i decided to attend it, all the while planning that jamila was going to be with me...so i went through my stuff, looking for photos, mementos, etc. i thought i would take perhaps his cell phone, since i miss hearing his voice, or a photo but i thought, that would surely make me cry. i tried to look for his AA daily meditation book but couldn't find it. finally, as i looked through my desk, i found the stack of love letters that matthew wrote to me before we got married. and i just about lost it....
he always accused me of misplacing his letters but of course i would tell him no, i have each and every one of them. i think he wrote me about 80 letters over a 9 month period. i wrote him too, but i have no idea where those might be. his letters are, to me, more precious than gold...
when we were first going together, we got separated because some members of my family were against him - he was black, an excon, older. so many reasons why we shouldn't be together. but as we were separated, he in prison, and me pregnant with our oldest, these letters got me through what then was the most difficult time of my life. i think there are about 80 letters in all, and i haven't re-read through all of them in a while but always thought i should publish these in a book. talk about encouragement, love, respect, passion, challenge, perseverance. somehow these letters came to me, from 500o miles across the ocean, him in a cell in walla walla, me in a tiny room, hiding from everyone (because i was pregnant - back in those days, you didn't flaunt pregnancy when you're unmarried).
anyhow, there's more to the story but the point i was trying to make was i found his letters and i just started crying and sobbing, hugging the pieces of paper, close to me, tears falling down on them, smelling them, looking at them, knowing his hands touched them 27 years ago, and i touch them now like no time has passed in between.
it's been 7 months since he passed and i truly was beginning to think that my grieving was, for all intents and purposes, "over". well, it's not and i am still in pain. very much so. and i miss him so so very much. this discovery started a wave of fresh tears, each time i thought i about him, looked at his picture, touched his cell phone, sat by his desk where he worked. it is unbearably sad for me to be thinking about this, and i carried this thought with me through the memorial, unable to speak, unable to fully engage. i was just "there" and if it weren't for Joe, who also showed up, I would have just sat there, unable to move, except for the tears streaming down my face.
these letters mean so much to me, it was my proof positive, my evidence, that our story really began there, 27 years ago. and that he really really did love me from the very beginning and that i meant the world to him. he would in fact write this, "you mean the world to me" and i believed him of course, and knew this to be the truth.
i also found another journal of his today, and in one entry from July 2000, he wrote that one of his goals was to "feel proud of what my wife is driving. I see her riding with the top down". he never did, of course, as i lost interest in convertibles a few years back but it was so beautiful for me to read that and to see it in his handwriting. he had a vision of what the perfect life would be for him and he had the uncanny ability to convince everyone he loved that all of that was completely and unequivocably possible. this ability give hope to others while remaining true to one's self was the single most wonderful thing i loved about my husband. this is the same quality that everyone who knows him loves about him, no matter how hopeless a situation they seemed to be in...
my husband and i were partners, in every sense of the word. i am joyful over the fact that i can remember this side of him, rather than the disease that took him away from me. this was a gift from him, i know, so i can remember the good stuff and stop agonizing over the sad stuff.
he was a very special person and my soul mate and my partner forever.
he always accused me of misplacing his letters but of course i would tell him no, i have each and every one of them. i think he wrote me about 80 letters over a 9 month period. i wrote him too, but i have no idea where those might be. his letters are, to me, more precious than gold...
when we were first going together, we got separated because some members of my family were against him - he was black, an excon, older. so many reasons why we shouldn't be together. but as we were separated, he in prison, and me pregnant with our oldest, these letters got me through what then was the most difficult time of my life. i think there are about 80 letters in all, and i haven't re-read through all of them in a while but always thought i should publish these in a book. talk about encouragement, love, respect, passion, challenge, perseverance. somehow these letters came to me, from 500o miles across the ocean, him in a cell in walla walla, me in a tiny room, hiding from everyone (because i was pregnant - back in those days, you didn't flaunt pregnancy when you're unmarried).
anyhow, there's more to the story but the point i was trying to make was i found his letters and i just started crying and sobbing, hugging the pieces of paper, close to me, tears falling down on them, smelling them, looking at them, knowing his hands touched them 27 years ago, and i touch them now like no time has passed in between.
it's been 7 months since he passed and i truly was beginning to think that my grieving was, for all intents and purposes, "over". well, it's not and i am still in pain. very much so. and i miss him so so very much. this discovery started a wave of fresh tears, each time i thought i about him, looked at his picture, touched his cell phone, sat by his desk where he worked. it is unbearably sad for me to be thinking about this, and i carried this thought with me through the memorial, unable to speak, unable to fully engage. i was just "there" and if it weren't for Joe, who also showed up, I would have just sat there, unable to move, except for the tears streaming down my face.
these letters mean so much to me, it was my proof positive, my evidence, that our story really began there, 27 years ago. and that he really really did love me from the very beginning and that i meant the world to him. he would in fact write this, "you mean the world to me" and i believed him of course, and knew this to be the truth.
i also found another journal of his today, and in one entry from July 2000, he wrote that one of his goals was to "feel proud of what my wife is driving. I see her riding with the top down". he never did, of course, as i lost interest in convertibles a few years back but it was so beautiful for me to read that and to see it in his handwriting. he had a vision of what the perfect life would be for him and he had the uncanny ability to convince everyone he loved that all of that was completely and unequivocably possible. this ability give hope to others while remaining true to one's self was the single most wonderful thing i loved about my husband. this is the same quality that everyone who knows him loves about him, no matter how hopeless a situation they seemed to be in...
my husband and i were partners, in every sense of the word. i am joyful over the fact that i can remember this side of him, rather than the disease that took him away from me. this was a gift from him, i know, so i can remember the good stuff and stop agonizing over the sad stuff.
he was a very special person and my soul mate and my partner forever.
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