Let’s muse over a pitcher of margaritas
and some guacamole.
I will, of course, be drinking a little ice cold Coke because that was the way it always was.. .
Joe died two years ago today, at 11:00 in the morning. It still sucks.
Last night, together with a good friend, I toasted Joe. I ordered a Pomegranate Martini for the occasion, and she had a Beefeater martini with two olives. We laughed a lot. She asked me what I missed most about Joe.
I miss his bearded face rubbing against mine. I miss his after-shower fountain poses (don’t ask for more detail). I miss the ridiculous attention he gave to making a sandwich and hotdog. I miss how he looked at Cole. I miss being able to take the high road, which Joe often made it easy for me to take. I miss the sound of sports playing on the radio on weekend afternoons, and sometimes, I just miss having someone to fight with over something stupid.
Cole said something to me not too long ago that left me rather breathless. He wondered why he would choose to be born into a family where the dad he loved so much would die when he was so young. What was the bigger plan for him on Earth? Wow. Right? The idea of choosing the path you follow on Earth was not a new concept for Cole – it was one Joe and I often discussed. We both took comfort in the idea that you choose to learn different lessons, to move yourself further down the karmic path, before you come back into your next life. It was our opinion that it was better to believe that you made choices about your life experiences, rather than simply having things thrust upon you. I know this can be an impossibly difficult and painful concept, and I am not suggesting you look at life this way. It has, however, transformed Cole and me from feeling like victims of a sudden and unfathomable death of someone we loved beyond belief into a more satisfying relationship with Joe and each other.
This past year was hard. The numbness wore off and Cole and I became painfully aware of what ‘forever after’ meant, and yet, we both still harbored the feeling of disbelief that I think might always live inside us. Cole sometimes looks at families that include both a mom and dad and I can see how much he misses being a family of three. Without hesitation, he will tell you that he had the best dad ever. Not too long ago, he told me that he was fortunate to still have the best mom ever. I cried.
People ask me frequently if I plan to date or marry again. This question always makes me smile. Like one morning you wake up and say. “Today is the day that I declare myself available again.” Right now, I am busy running a business, a home, and giving a teen my full attention. If, someday, someone comes along who thinks he might be Mr. Right, I hope he sprays me with a water hose because otherwise, I might never look at him twice. Relationships are impossibly hard work. I know. Worth it? Once, yes. Again? I’m not sure.
Cole’s grade school teacher sent me this picture today as well as card that reminded Cole and I of all the wonderful things she remembered about Joe and how he would always be an important part of her life. We gave her Joe’s hat-the one he always wore on the many class trips he helped chaperone.
As Cole and I continue traveling our life path, we take a lot of heart in knowing we also chose a path that includes family, friends near and dear who love and support us, and Facebook. Facebook? Yes, Facebook friends have kept me company and sane from my first status update posted the day after Joe died.
Okay. Can I just tell you, as I am floundering trying to wrap up this two-year Joe anniversary update, that the song Joe played most often and drove me most crazy with just came on the radio, “Knocking on Heavens Door.” It was also playing at the Starbucks that I stopped into today; my drink was complementary due to a slight delay.
Cheers to the spirit of Joe. We miss him like crazy and will love him forever.
And the song Joe and I considered “Ours.”