Hi honey.

Yesterday was your birthday. Your fucking birthday. Just 29 days after you died, we faced your birthday. It was pretty awful. The day before was even worse, Wal. I had to leave work early. I kept breaking down. On my way to work, I followed a car from the funeral home that took care of you and once I did get to work? I couldn’t get out of my car because I was crying so damn hard. Once I started working, I thought I might be ok. Then I broke down again and just knew I wouldn’t be able to make it through the day.

Bri and I had dinner that night and we were a friggin’ mess. He was angry and I was sad. I think just knowing that your birthday was the next day was completely fucking us up. But you know what? Bri was better yesterday, honey. He said he felt weirdly tranquil. Isn’t that good?

I, however, tried to sleep all day. I just needed the day to be over, but my back hurt so much from laying in bed that I was forced to get up. I cried a lot. I wasn’t sure I’d do anything, but Bonnie was here and she helped motivate me. I should have been making you chocolate cupcakes with buttercream frosting…but I only made a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal.

I ended up going to Aymie’s. I know you’d be happy that I got out of the house. I really didn’t want to, but I figured I should, right? She fed me, gave me a beautiful gift related to you that left me sobbing. But we talked about our kids, our careers, our lives…it was good. I even ended up going to the grocery store afterwards. It’s the first time I’ve shopped for more than alcohol or cereal since the day you died.

Then I got home and Bri was here with some friends watching a movie. I was glad he was here on your birthday. We needed to do our own thing yesterday, but ended it with hugging one another and talking about our day. He went back to school afterwards, but that was ok. He needs his friends. He’s so lucky, isn’t he? Well, at least as far as his friendships go, he’s so fortunate. Not so lucky in the male relative category–losing Phil, then my dad, then your dad, then you? For fuck’s sake.

And today? Today is Dia de los Muertos. Day of the dead. November 1. The first fucking month I am starting without knowing you since September of 1994. The first month I’ve felt like you won’t be here to love me since June of 1995. Even back then, I knew you’d always love me, even if our relationship didn’t work. I knew you’d keep me safe until the day you died. And you did, Wal. You did.

But now I’m scared all the time. I’m definitely paranoid—double-checking my locks at the house and the car. Waking up in the middle of the night, worrying about our finances or what if the generator doesn’t work this winter or what if or what if or what if? Look, I know Bonnie is here and I know it’ll all be ok…but it’s just not the same.

It’s just not the fucking same, honey.

And the goddamn holidays are coming up.

I just…I just need to get through them. I just need to get through this first year, right? At least this first year.

Do you remember when I told you about the book, “The Poppy Fields” by Nikki Erlick? Of course you do. You always remembered everything except names and dates. It was the book about people going to a lab to sleep for a few months so they wouldn’t have to go through the grieving process after losing someone they loved. I remember saying that I don’t think I would want that because grieving deeply means loving deeply. It’s also a healing process. I know I understood the desire to sleep for months because I felt like that when Phil died. But now? Now I’d like nothing more than for the next year to go by while I slept.

Or…I just want everyone to stop. I want the world to stop for a while. I can’t catch my breath. I don’t want to go forward yet. I just want to either go back or just stay right here. It’s like the W.H. Auden poem, right? “Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.” But we don’t get that and I’m pissed about it.

You know what though? There’s a line in Auden’s poem that I disagree with: “I thought that love would last forever : I was wrong.”

That part isn’t true. I know I’ll love you forever and even though you’re not sitting here in this room with me right now, your love is here. It’s with me. It’s with your family, our son, your friends. I do know that.

It’s really not enough, Wally. It’s not. But it’s what I have so I’ll try to suck it up and deal. You know I’m not good at that though. So expect more crying and screaming and me talking to you and wishing you’d answer me.

I love you.