The Peace Lily

When Roger died, I asked for others not to buy me flowers but plants.
I could not handle more dead things laying around my house.
So I received a few plants.
Three are still living.
One small peace lily, a larger peace lily, and a vine.

The vine has been amazing.
It has grown a lot and has even bloomed a few times.
It sits in the kitchen where it fights with the blinds for light.
It is also a succulent so I do not have to worry if I forget to water it.
Which tends to happen.

The large peace lily is living yes but it has never been very healthy.
I guess it does not like its location.
The leaves are ragged edges all year long.
It has never bloomed again.
I am not sure if it has even grown much.
But it sits right outside the kitchen window and I stare at it wondering if I should move it or just let it be.

The small peace lily has waxed and waned.
A few times I thought it was going to die.
Sometimes it would not get watered.
But it always came back.
Last summer I even had to repot it.
So in a new pot and outside on the patio it went.
I figured if it died outside at least I wouldn't have to witness it in my kitchen.

This past weekend as I was walking by the windows to the patio I noticed something.
I walked out onto the patio and noticed two things.
Two blooms.
After four years, it has finally bloomed again.
Finally.

Maybe it is a sign.
Or maybe it is a sign that I needed.
Yes, I did the right thing by re-financing my house.
Yes, Mr. X is a good match and will be an excellent husband.
Yes, things will be good this time.

Happy

Teaching is hard.
So very hard to deal with so many personalities and needs.
And exhausting.
And killing my feet and hamstrings.
And teaching, as many know, does not pay well.
Yes, we have summers off but we do not get paid for summer.
Nor do we get paid more than 7.5 hours per day.
I do not know any teacher who only works 7.5 hours per day.
I do not understand how you could only work 7.5 hours per day.
I am working ten to twelve hours a day and at least five or six over the weekend.
I spent two weeks before school even started with help cleaning and organizing my room without pay.
Some nights I do not sleep as I find myself trying to run through the day.

But here is the amazing thing.
Truly amazing.
I am enjoying myself.
I am happy.
I love the other teachers I work with.
My principal is so kind as well as the other administration.
The students are mostly good kids.

I feel part of something bigger.
Like I am making a difference.

I look around my classroom and think:
"This is my classroom. These are my students."

And I got a wonderful compliment.
Someone asked/commented "You are a new teacher?"
"You really know what you are doing."
And for the most part, I do feel like I am doing well.

Community

Most people think that New Yorkers are cold, rude, and there is no sense of community there.
I would disagree completely.
While I lived there, I had community.
A very nice one.
The Greek diner for Sunday morning breakfast.
The dinner across the street from my office who knew my order by my face.
Butter roll with sweet-n-light coffee.
My neighbors who always said hello.
Even letting me hang out in their home when I locked myself out.

When I moved in with Roger in the other house, his neighbors barely waved at us.
I craved community.
I wanted people to say hi to me.
Borrow sugar.
And then I discovered the neighborhood I live in now.
I was excited when I first found it.
The grocery store is in walking distance.
There is a bakery locally owned.
Loads of small businesses.
My neighborhood has outdoor movie nights once a month.
Festivals for every sort of event.
Yet, my neighbors ignored me.
Most people on the street or in the grocery store will not even make eye contact.
Even the few people I have met who do live near me, do not really try to be friends.
Especially since I do not have kids.
I was disappointed once more.

Today I realized something.
The school I will be working in is in my neighborhood.
Some of my fellow teachers live in my neighborhood.
They are friendly.
And as much as I hesitated to take a job within my neighborhood.
I will get my craving.
I will have my sense of community.
I will be part of something big.
Part of a "village".

All because three years ago.
Three years ago and I am here.
Living in a community.
Working in a community.
I love it.

I'm Getting Married, Again

[I tried to write this post over a week ago before going on vacation but blogger was being weird.  This is part II of this post but it has been more than ten days now so...]

Mr. X has been telling me how much he wants to marry me for some time now.
He has even revealed that he thought of proposing last July but did not.
But in March of this year, he said he would ask me to marry him by the end of the year.
All my friends said it would be while we were on vacation in Alaska.
I thought it would be while I was in Alaska.
But he surprised me a bit.

Over two weeks ago, Mr. X and I were at home on a Friday night just relaxing.
He had just sold some things on eBay.
He turned and told me to find a ring I loved.
We had looked at rings over Christmas and I even tried on a few.
Orginially I was going to go with the traditional diamond engagement ring.
But about a month ago, I decided I did not want another diamond ring.
I had a diamond ring.
I am not a huge bling person and why would I another diamond ring?
I wanted something different.
Something other people would not to compare to the first ring that I still wear on my right hand.
So I asked for a blue sapphire.
A sapphire would match my right hand ring.
And Mr. X and I both love blue.

I found a couple of rings online that we could go see that night in person.
Mr. X told me to get my shoes on.
He was buying me a ring.

We went to two stores.
The first ring was amazing.
But I had to try on the second one at a different store.
I decided the first ring was the ring.
Lo and behold, the lady who helped Roger and I with my first diamond was the only one available to help us.
What are the chances?!
She did not recognize me.
As the girl I was in 2006.
Or the new widow I was in 2008.
Or at least I think not.
At least I hope not.

Mr. X had a plan to present me with the ring the next day with a nice speech after my return home.
But the ring was not ready in time.
We both went to pick up the ring instead.
It started to pour.
I tried the ring on to make sure it fit and gave it back to Mr. X.
It is beautiful.
It is so unique.

We ran back to the car.
Mr. X gave me a small speech that I only remember one specific part.
He said I made him feel like he was at home.
Same thing Roger said to me in the love letter I read after the accident.
I said yes.

A widow getting married.
The Talking Heads song that inspired the title of this blog instantly filled my head.
But I like it here.

Out With the Old & In With the New

Like a good blogger and a reflective person, here is my 2010 to 2011 post.
Yes, three or four days late depending on the count.

First, 2010.
Wow, I am glad another year is down honestly.
Finally I feel like it is okay to be happy.
Outsiders surely expect me to be by this point.
Most days, I do.
I see myself laughing.
Smiling at old memories.
And at times when I do cry, I am better at giving myself a break.
I feel more accepting of my life and myself for the most part.
There are still moments of complete disbelief but as I understand, that will always happen.
That's the way the human brain works fortunately/unfortunately.

2010 was good to me.
The business is up and running.  It is going fairly well with more and more strangers contacting me for sessions.
I entered my third decade on earth with friends and family with a surprise party.
Mr. X and I became more serious.
As far as education goes, I passed several certification tests and have only one semester left.
The holidays this year were not as bad as they have been with almost a touch of Christmas spirit I have not felt in years.
As a present for myself and increasing my home value a little, the patio was screened in.

For this new year, I feel like one of my major life goals will finally be complete.
I will finish my degree in May.
I am slightly disappointed that it has taken me thirteen years to get a bachelors but I am glad to finally be getting my piece of paper.
January is already looking like a good photography month with seven sessions so far.
I am going to start advertising this year with a few ads placed in local publications.
And as I mentioned in my resolution post, I will love me.

Since I love lists.
What I will do to love me:
1.  Lately, I have not cared so much about my appearance.  Apathy was the name of the game most of the time.  However, I do not want to be so apathetic.  Yes, my appearance does not define me but I will care more.
2.  Like most (maybe all) people, I want to lose some weight.  But in a healthy way.  Not a fad diet or magic potion, but I want to start exercising more.  I want to run again.  My daily schedule should be more stable so I can stick to this better.  Maybe even complete a new 5K this year.
3.  I will accept me for who I am.  Not what my friends expect themselves to be.  I will grade myself on my own standards, not theirs.  Isn't this what the 30s are suppose to be about?
4.  I will try harder to stick to my budget but not hate myself for going over.  I have done extremely well for not working.

Here is twenty-eleven.  May it be exactly what I need.

Sweet Relief

On Wednesday I got my will signed.
And it feels strange to have it done at thirty when most people are enjoying married life and kids and trips with their husbands and wives.
But at the same time I feel a bit relieved.

Roger died interstate.
Meaning he did not have a will.
I had to figure out where things went.
Who got what.
What to do with his motorcycle.
What to do with his gym equipment.
What to do with his prized possessions.

For the last two years, I was always afraid of my death.
Not for the normal reasons.
But for all the things that would happen afterwards.
Scared of who would be in control by default since I did not have children or a husband.
It was a constant thought.

But now I feel like I can die in peace of sorts.
At least who I want will be in control.
They can make the decisions.
And since sometimes it feels like we share a brain, I know things will be okay.
They will be able to figure it out.

For everyone who reads my blog:

• Get a will especially if you have kids.
• Get life insurance especially if you have a spouse and/or kids.  
• Make sure someone knows what to do with your organs.
• Make sure someone knows what to do with your body.

So Here I Am

It is my thirtieth birthday.
A few weeks ago, after a post, my friend Candice emailed me about her thirtieth birthday.
How it felt good.
And I have to say I agree.
I am glad to turn at least the page to a new decade.
A new part of my life.

In some ways, I feel I cannot really complain about my 20s.
The first seven years of them were pretty great.
I traveled a lot.
Sweden, Australia, England, France, and Holland.
I moved to NYC.
And then back to Orlando.
I have an amazing set of friends that grows all the time.
I met a fantastic guy and gained his wonderful family.
I had a beautiful wedding.
It is sad and annoying that one August day could cast such a bad taste for my 20s.

I am hopeful and praying for a better decade.
This is not where I thought I would be at people.
A lot of people say that, I know.
I am trying not to be depressed about it.
I met some of my goals.
I own my own home plus a rental.
Mr. X and those amazing friends still are still a big part of my life.
Gizmo and Gadget are the best cats.
I am enjoying my education for the most part.
Started my own business.

So I am trying not to focus on that fact I experienced widowness.
That I lost my best friend and husband.

But today is my birthday.
I will be happy today.

It's a Small World

When Roger first died, I felt like I was completely alone.
On top of that and all the other hundreds of feelings, I felt completely unique.
After all, no one in my immediate circle had experienced anything like that before.
I was suddenly very different than my friends and family.
I felt like circus freak that people were afraid of.

And then as I expanded my view in the following months and now years, I found others.
Bloggers, friends of friends, and then new friends.
Now I know about ten people or so with similar stories.
Some of who are close to me.

Last Saturday I met a couple who really rattled my brain.
The woman worked for my wedding caterer.
I heard a bit of her story last year after her husband was killed.
Her husband had also been in an accident.
No kids.
And there was even some talk that perhaps she worked at my wedding.

Then her date was a widower.
Her neighbor.
Young as well.
No kids.
The fact that jolted me though was that he knew Roger.
He actually worked with Roger.
I was in shock at first.

Then I was intrigued.
I wanted to hear his Roger stories.
I couldn't help but smile.
Finding someone and talking to someone who also knew Roger validates he was real.
He was alive.
He was not a figment of my imagination.

The world is so small in ways.
But it feels good to have people like me.
Who understand me.
Who get it.
Who have similar feelings and experiences.
Nothing can compare.

Rome

As I believe I wrote about, I loved the book Eat, Pray, Love.
Yes, it was not a widow book per se.
But I related tremendously to her grief.
The loss of herself and her life.
And her mission to find peace.
She felt like her life as she knew it was in ruin.

When I found out a movie was being made, I knew I would want to see it.
I knew I would relate.
I knew I would cry.
So a few weeks ago, I met up with a friend to see it.

Many things in the movie spoke to me as I saw the book come to film.
A movie I will possibly even own so I can rewind some of the words of wisdom.
[I own very few movies.]

While watching I tried to take note of some of the things they said in the film.
One part of the movie that I made sure to remember was a scene in Rome.
The main character is exploring Mausoleum of Augustus.
At one time, this was the burial place of the Emperor Augustus.
When Rome fell, unfortunately it was ransacked by people in 410.
Ruined.
Then years later someone used it for their home.
Then ruined again after they were kicked out.
Over and over again, this one very sacred and glorious place was ruined.

Roger's dying felt like my life was ruined.
All the plans.
All of my future.
Everything I held sacred felt violated.
I felt as if everything was in shambles.
My empire had fallen.

But as the movie says, ruin is a gift.
A gift for transformation.
A chance to transform completely.
After being ruined, a place can become something new.
A person can become something new.

So perhaps my life will not be the glorious Rome I had planned.
Maybe I will not be the emperor of a colossal kingdom.
But I will be and am changed.
With a new purpose.
I can become something new.
The ruins are never gone however.
Just transformed.

Meeting the Family

Last week I was super nervous about the weekend visit to Miami to have Mr. X meet Roger's family.
Mostly concerned about those closest to Roger including his mother.
Anxiety was also met with excitement.
I cannot even describe the feeling of home when I visit my given family in Miami.
My heart feels filled.
I am surrounded by people who love me and care about me.
And we all loved Roger.
That feeling is the best medicine in the world for heartache.

So combining my life and love of Mr. X with my Miami family was very important to me.
I know it is not a traditional family of marriage and extended family but I do not want to give up my Miami family for anything.
Life is complicated.
Family is complicated.
But this family is one gift from Roger I hope to never lose to traditional family standards.
No matter what people may think or say or gossip about.

So as we pulled into the driveway, my heart started to beat faster.
I thought, "Here we go!"
Worlds colliding!

The first night was at first emotional.
Roger's mom was overwhelmed.
She started to get a headache from her nerves.
Mr. X conversed with her in her limited English but she did laugh some and was her silly self as usual.
But we needed backup fast.
I called Roger's aunt, "Can we come visit?"
"Sure, come on over."

After four glasses of wine, introductions to Roger's cousins, aunt, and uncle, everything was good.
Mr. X, as usual, quickly adapted to the new situation.
He made the family laugh.  He laughed at their jokes.  He participated in their sarcasm.
Comments were made to me that they liked him.
Of course, one cousin had to make "the" speech:
"Take care of her.  She is our family.  She is our cousin for life."

Second day, we did errands with Grace, Roger's sister, and jokingly Grace and Mr. X alternated with "I like you", "I used to like you", and "I don't like you."
Roger's mom was impressed with Mr. X's Cuban coffee and love of Cuban sandwiches.
"Are you sure you aren't Cuban?"

That night Roger's aunt made me his favorite meal-marinated turkey meat with potatoes and rice.
It is so yummy.
And I was craving it bad.
It was delicious as usual and I got to share Roger's favorite food with Mr. X.

Third day was filled with a big family event.
Most of the family was coming to Roger's aunt's house for lunch.
Mr. X met a lot of Roger's cousins and aunts and all the little children that ran around.
He helped set up the event (lunch with that many people is always an event) and break down.
People were impressed.  "He helps!"
When we were leaving, Roger's mom, sister, cousin, and myself were in the car.
Mr. X was still chatting with people inside.
I had to chuckle.
He had known some of them for a few hours and at most some of them for forty-eight hours.
Yet he was still inside giving hugs and talking.

Overall the visit was a success.
We both were invited to come back anytime.
Worlds colliding went well.
Thankfully.

Sigh... some relief.

In a Moment

(Almost) two years ago, Grace and I were sitting with one of the cousins, Ralph, in a small consultation room at the hospital.
Grace had just heard the doctor's spill about Roger.
Roger was going to die.
We had to tell the rest of the family.
Ralph was one of the first (I think).
I cannot remember what time of day it was.
Hospitals do not have lots of windows.  Especially waiting rooms.  Especially this room.
Grace and I were sitting on one couch.
Ralph was sitting across from us on another couch.
I cannot remember if anyone else was in the room at that moment.

Ralph was close with Roger.
They had worked together a few times on different projects.
They had grown up together.
And they were basically the same as brothers.
I remember Ralph's face in that moment.
I could see his heart breaking.
All of our hearts were breaking.
Tears and sadness warped our faces.
In that moment, I could not imagine ever having fun or being happy again.

Last night, we were all together again.
[Not for the first time in the last two years.]
We were out celebrating another friend's accomplishment.
Standing on the dance floor in a small circle together.
We were smiling.
We were dancing.
We were laughing with each other.

And in a moment, I felt our combined happiness.
We were all okay.
We had survived enough to have fun again.
To enjoy ourselves again.
I looked at Grace's face. She was smiling and happy.
I looked at Ralph's face. He was smiling and happy.
I was smiling and happy.

Tears started to fill my eyes.
We had survived.
We could love Roger, miss him, and still enjoy ourselves and each other.
Yes, the tears were partly of sadness but also of joy and unbelief.

Sigh...

365 Days of Star

A few months ago, I saw the movie (500) Days of Summer.  

Today Mr. X and I celebrated his 365th day of Star.  

It is hard to believe I have been dating for a year now.

But I am glad.

I am lucky to have such a great guy who understands.

Who lets me cry.

Who lets me laugh.

Who does not judge me when my widow humor gets the best of me.  

I am lucky to have a guy who boldly meets those who loved Roger. 

To have a guy who is okay with me saying "Roger" every once in a while.

A guy who will listen to my Roger stories and really listen.

Although Mr. X does not read this blog, I would like to thank him for 365 days of love and understanding.  

Being Brave

Time and time again I was told, especially in the beginning of this journey, that I am brave.
And as I have said I do not see myself as brave.
I am a widow.  I get up out of bed the same way as everyone else.
I breathe in and out because I have to.
I go on because I have to.
Bravery is more about doing something frightening voluntarily.
I did not chose this life voluntarily by any means.
I just have to live in it.

However, a little while ago, after some encouragement from some fabulous friends, I did something brave.
I decided to start a small photography business.
Location photography for families.

Roger encouraged me a lot while he was alive to pursue my love of photography more.
He tried to get me to sell my calendars I would make each year.
He tried to get me to sell my photos as stock photography.
But I did not have enough faith in myself.
I just had fun when I took photos of my friends and family.

When I got the website to a rough draft level, I cried.
I wanted to show Roger my work.
I felt proud of myself.
I am actually doing it.
Roger would be proud, I think.
Even if it does not work out, he would smile at me.

I feel like this adventure is walking out on a limb for me.
I could easily fail.
And perhaps I am not the greatest yet.
But I am the beginner.  This I accept.
I have a lot of improving to do and knowledge to gain.

This to me is scary.
Investing some time, energy, and money into something that has a 50% failure rate.
Something that a year from now may not exist.
This is being brave.

From "His" to "Ours"

I announced a few weeks ago that Mr. X is moving in.
As we get toward the two week mark, so far so good.
It is a nice change to see him everyday.
To prepare all our meals together.
To share the household chores.
To wake up with him each morning.
And we are also starting to decorate together.

When Roger first died and I decided (I do not think it was really a decision but...) to stay in the house.
But somewhere in something I read in the millions of grief related advice, it stated if I was going to stay, I should change things around.
To make the space different.
So I painted the kitchen, the family room, the dining room, the living room, the master bedroom, and the master bathroom.
I slip covered some of the furniture.
I rearranged the furniture.
I bought new sheets.
I rearranged some artwork on the walls.
I started to make the home mine.

Then at some point I stopped.
I realized that some day I would want another man to live here with me.
That one day I would want the house not just to be mine but "ours" again.

When Mr. X moved in, I wanted to make him feel comfortable.
I wanted this house to become his home.
So his table is in the kitchen.
Pictures of his family are up.

And then, we started looking at the office.
It still looked like Roger's office.
As much as I have tried over the last two years, it still looked like the same basic set up.

So in continuing with my efforts to make this a home for Mr. X and me, we decided to re-do the office together.
We are taking down Roger's desk.
Selling part of it and giving the other part to my roommate.
I am getting a brand new desk that I have been eyeing for a long time.
Installing a huge wall size bookshelf for all our combined books.
And setting up Mr. X's desk as well.

I am not sad about changing this room.
I am really excited about this new room.
The physical ones and the emotional ones.

Lifetime Friends

In the last almost two years, I have lost a lot of friends.
It is something a lot of widows will tell you about.
Some old friends. Some more recent friends.
Some that I knew for about eight years before.
Some that I met right before the accident.
Some that I met after the accident.
For one reason or another, we are no longer friends.
Sometimes there has been a "conversation".
Other times they just drift.

I was starting to get self conscious about it.
I was starting to wonder if I was the common denominator.
I was starting to think something was wrong with me.
I was starting to wonder if eventually I would be standing at a street corner completely alone.
I was starting to get depressed.

But after my "little" announcement a couple of days ago.
And in just small things over the last week, I remembered something.
I still have a load of friends who love me and care about me.
And who have loved me for a long time and short amounts of time.
And who are truly happy for me.

One friend, Stacy, I have known for almost ten years.
We met when his friend and I were briefly dating.
We have all remained friends.
I remember seeing him at the hospital.
I remember seeing him at my house after the funeral. He is one of the few people I remember unfortunately.
And in the last almost two years he has been here for me like an older brother.
He called me the other night to invite me over.
And in the conversation he told me how he was happy for me.

I had another friend who asked if he needed to "talk" to Mr. X.
A friend I inherited from Roger.
A friend I am glad I did not lose when Roger died.
But he is happy for me as well.

I should not expect every friend to stay around forever.
Obviously people die.
And I guess I am realizing now that sometimes friendships die too.
No fault of anyone I guess.
It is just life.

Now, it is not that I live in the same backyard as I grew up in.
So I should have known and realized this sort of thing happened in life.
I am almost thirty years old for Pete's sake.  I moved away from my hometown eleven years ago.
But I think there has been a definite weeding out of friends in the last two years.

I am happy with those that have stuck around.
For those that attached in the last two years as well.

Changes

A change is about to occur here in my house.
Next month, Mr. X is going to be moving in with me.
We have been dating for almost a year and I feel like it is time.
We feel like it is time.
Time to step up our relationship to the next level.
On May Day, it will become our home.

I was nervous about announcing this.
I am sure some people will be shocked that in less than two years since Roger's death I am ready to have someone else move in.
However, I felt like I was stalling my decision for the sake of what other's think.
For other's feelings.
For society's rules.
For what others deem as normal and good.

But that was not fair to Mr. X.
It was not fair to me.

It is a scary change.
Commitment-phobia is slightly engaged.
Death-phobia is highly engaged.
But it is also exciting.

However, I hate the term "moving on".
No, I am not moving on.
I am moving forward.  Life moves forward.
"Moving on" sounds like I am forgetting Roger.
I still think of him.
Every. Single. Day.
I still have tears that gently roll off my cheeks every once in a while.

I still love Roger.
And I love Mr. X.
Amazingly, I can do both.

Copycat

So like Supa and Crash Course Widow, I made a fan page on facebook.

Check out.

Be a fan if you would like.

Click here.

Backyard Update

Last month I wrote about my plants.

I was so depressed looking at my backyard.

I cried as I realized everything was dying from the extreme cold and the bitter winds.

It was awful.

A couple weeks ago my doorbell rang.

It was my yard guy.

He said almost everything was dead.

He asked if he could cut everything back.

He said things may come back.

Or maybe not.

"Sure" I said as my stomach dropped.

With the time change, Florida also changes the water restrictions.

So tonight I was outside changing the sprinkler system.

I looked back where the banana trees used to be and I saw the first picture.

It was depressing once again.

I wanted to cry again.

I grabbed some fertilizer for the other plants.

As I was sprinkling the small pellets around, I noticed something else.

The second picture.

I got closer.

And I noticed something.

Something amazing.

I have some baby banana trees coming up.

Yes, the old ones are gone and dead.

But there are new ones for me to take care of.

I probably will not have bananas for a while but I have banana trees!

I have banana trees!!!

Some of the other "dead" things are coming back to life as well.

Some new sprouts here and there.

Some new life peaking out from underneath the old dead leaves.

Hope.

Surviving despite the conditions.

Renewal.

New life.

I Can Feel That Now

Many people describe loss as numbness that encapsulates them for the first few months.

And I totally felt that.

I could not feel anything except grief.

Nothing penetrated the fog of grief.

Everything is fuzzy in my memory.

When I started back to school last year, my period got completely messed up.

My period was sort of backwards.

Bleeding for twenty days at a time and then not for ten days.

It went on for three or four months.

And I could not figure out why.

I remember sitting in my counselor's office.

And in my gynecologist's office.

I kept telling them I did not understand why.

It was not right after Roger death.

It was about four or five months out.

My gynecologist asked me: "Are you stressed?"

I looked reflectively at myself.

Was I stressed?

I was back in "real" life with school.

I was dealing with the estate stuff still.

My husband did die.

Maybe I was.

But I did not feel it.

Stress was on the list of things that did not penetrate the grief fog.

This week I feel stressed.

My muscles in my back are tight.

I feel overwhelmed.

I am easily agitated.

And the good thing is, I feel it.

At least I think it is good.

Good that I can feel it.

Feel something besides grief.

I am feeling.

I Remember

I remember when I had the flu back in December 1998.

My boyfriend-at-the-time put me into a luke warm bath to cool my raging fever.

Then he had to rush me to the emergency room as the fever was not coming down and I was shaking violently with cold chills.

I remember Christmas 1999 in Florida.

Same boyfriend and I were very poor in my first apartment in Orlando.

He strung up lights in the shape of a tree and taped up ornaments because we could not afford a real tree.

I remember May 2000 when another boyfriend and I got our first puppy.

The puppy was sweet and smart and we took turns taking care of her.

We had huge dreams.

I remember October 2001 on my twenty-first birthday.

My friend Tom took me to a local bar for my first legal drink.

We played Trivial Pursuit cards at the bar and listened to U2.

I remember March 2002 on my first European vacation.

I was standing on a bridge in Stockholm as the sun was setting.

The first guy I loved standing next me and we were trying to keep warm.

I remember October 2003 trying not to pee in my pants.

A group of coworkers and I were going through some haunted houses around Halloween.

We were giggling so hard at being so scared.

I remember December 2004 standing next to the Sydney Opera House.

It was an amazing day of "flat white" coffee, walking through gardens, and sipping Australian beer.

The warm wind whipping through my hair and on my face.

I remember June 2005 riding on I95 in a huge Uhaul.

I cried leaving my New York City and all my friends.

But I was excited about returning "home".

I remember July 2006. Realizing I was ready for marriage.

I remember April 2007. Buying a house.

I remember February 2008. The happiest day of my life.

I remember June 2009 sitting at my favorite Orlando park with an amazing guy.

I was realizing I could be happy, again.

My heart was starting to go pitter patter, again.

So why in 2010, I am so afraid of forgetting.

I will not forget you, Roger. I must remember that I will not forget.

I do not have to try to remember these other moments.

They are all there.

And if I do forget some small details, it is okay.

It is okay to forget.

It does not mean I do not love you.

It does not mean we were not real.

It does not mean you were not special.