Another milestone has come and gone.  Another year. Sometimes, I can’t believe it’s been six years.  The time without you is almost equal to the time I spent with you. This year was a little more difficult than last year.  I’m really not sure why and I’ll probably never understand what makes one year easier than another.  

Two weeks before your death date, Grant got married and Paul and I went to the reception.  I was nervous going because I’m never sure how I will be received and I always hate the onslaught of unexpected memories that accompany being with people who knew and loved you. But I owe it to Grant and both he and Janel really wanted Paul and I to be there.  For Grant…that’s why I went.

The usual crowd was there.  Every time a new face came into the room, I swallowed a mouthful of memories and forced myself to smile and in most cases, receive good hugs.  Most of them were genuine and I truly believe that time did heal some of the wounds.  Casey has changed.  He searched us out and hugged me.  I value his act of forgiveness, even though I’m not sure whether he “forgave” me or simply forgot and doesn’t care anymore.  Paul and I saw him the day before your death day at Norm’s.  He smiled and greeted us there, too.

Lots of hugs from the women in the group, but no invitations to join the table or the conversations.  The best hug came from Tim, the only one who really acknowledged Paul, telling him, “I love this woman” as he wrapped his arm around me.

The only person who ignored me was Mark.  Remember him? You were probably too busy moving on to the next life when he came over to the townhouse.  Your Patriot Guard flag in the garage was noticed by one of the responding police officers, who took it upon himself to call Mark.  He was one of the first of your friends to come over and he didn’t care that he wasn’t invited, nor did he ever ask permission.  In fact, he didn’t even greet me.  He went straight to the garage, noticed your belongings all stacked up and ready to be moved, and then created a narrative about me “kicking you out of my house.” 

I always found him arrogant and couldn’t figure out why you liked him.  He was never friendly to me and I now suspect that he believed the lies you told about me. Six years later, he still holds on to that illusion.  He told Grant that he would never forgive me.  Seeing him at the wedding wasn’t surprising, but his presence still cast a shadow over what should have been a perfectly joyful event.

I sat with Paul at a table with another couple who seemed a little out of place.  We had a nice time, but I kept glancing at the table with all the CRT people, and I found myself constantly wondering if you hadn’t died, would I be sitting there, too?

I have to admit that I miss the feeling of belonging to a group like that.  I glanced frequently at the group in the corner and felt a little jealous at times.  That was one thing about you that I both loved and hated…you could insert yourself in the middle of a group and instantly be the center of attention.  Everyone would want to be in your circle, vying for your attention.  I would be off to the side where I felt more comfortable, a little jealous of you and your natural charisma.  

Would that have worn off eventually?  How soon? After telling some of the group members that I was breaking up with you prior to your death, there was an initial assurance that I would still be included in group events.  I did ride with them a few times without you, one of which was in the 4th of July parade in Delano.  I know you were working behind the scenes even then and were already trying to win their approval as if this was some game with the prize being membership in CRT.  There could never be room for both of us.  After all, I saw what happened to the women who broke up with CRT men.  I didn’t want to be one of them. 

I’m sure that you would have eventually worn out your welcome , especially after you started to go after another man’s wife.  This was your “MO” and you knew how to play it with absolute perfection.  I think you were already grooming someone and if I had to guess, it was probably Katie you were after. I found out after you died that you had been sending her messages, likely without her husband’s knowledge, offering to listen to her and “help her” make better decisions about her marriage. You probably made her feel special and understood.  Just like you did to me. And she would have fallen for it too.  You were too good…you had already ruined two marriages and probably impacted others I didn’t even know about.

Anyway, all this was going through my mind at the wedding. The music was loud and I couldn’t hear any of the conversation so I politely nodded and laughed whenever I could catch a cue and lived within the memories that were stirred up by the guests’ faces.  

I want so much for this to go away.  How long will it be before I can go to something like this and NOT be immersed in your memories? Is this normal? I want to ask, but I’m so afraid that someone will reprimand me for having these thoughts and accuse me of “overthinking” or not being loyal to my husband. After all, it’s been six years.  I should “be over” you.

But today is THE day and as I stated earlier, it’s been harder this year than last. Social Media exploded with your pictures, mainly from Grant, who for some reason seems to be having the same struggle. It’s been hard for Paul though, who is forced to see me in old pictures.  He knows the truth about them.  He sees me smiling in the pictures but he knows I was masking a lot of pain and fear.  He can’t understand why others still appear to worship you, but I explained that’s a side-effect of an “unexpected” death.  You become a hero to some.  

After six years, memories become infected with emotions and distortions.  My own memories have probably been impacted the same way.  We remember what we want to remember and conveniently discard things we don’t. After six years, I often wish an independent fact checker was sitting on my shoulder as I type…reminding me that things may not have happened the way I thought.

I also wonder when I’ll reach a true “stopping point” on my letters to you. What will that look like? What kind of person will I be?  My father passed away of a heart attack when I was four. My mother remarried and moved on with her new husband, who took on the role of my father. She is 82 and at times, she and I connect over random memories of our former partners.  It’s been 53 years since my father died and I know that she still feels pain every December 1st. I’m sure she would tell me that some years are better than others and she would also tell me that being with certain people or being in certain places brings back memories and emotions.

I think that’s what it’s like for all the deaths we face throughout our lives.  Not just our husbands, partners, children, parents.  And not just suicides, violent crime, and unexpected accidents. Our lives are forever informed by the people in it, whether we love or hate them.