there are so many firsts to grief and on day 125 I am still only at the beginning
the first week you were not alive for part of has passed
the first month that you were not alive for part of has passed
the first year that you were not alive for part of is still in front of me, as is
the first Christmas without you in the world, and maybe the worst day yet for your kids
the first birthday (yours) with you not here to celebrate (how hard that will be for P., I will be sure to send him a card and a gift, and your mom)
the first full year of your absence
the first time I see the pictures your mom sends of you in your final year (she sent another today, seven months before you passed and I cried to see your anguish)
the first time I see your kids again - and thus you, still visible in their faces
the first time I see any of our old houses in person or photo (I’ve already seen two, but there are two more, not counting apartments)
the first time I will see your mom since the day of your funeral
the first time I will see your gravestone
the first time I don’t weep on a daily basis
the first time I no longer weep on a weekly basis
the first month that I don’t cry even once
the first night after I’ve moved away from this city, where the ghosts of who we were and what we were to each other are still everywhere, if you know where to look
the first time I achieve my life’s goal, the one you helped me set for myself, the one you started me on the path towards, the one I am just about to reach
the first time I see D., how we will cry over you as sure as the sky is still as blue as you remember it, and he will have a million pictures of you, and we will toast you at the same restaurant from the picture D. sent, that you all went to, back when you were healthy, and visiting with R. You both look so happy - seeing that brings me peace. Your face is soft with emotion. I believe that you are already ill in this picture, but in a long remission, something the picture taker does not know, but R. would, of course. Your closeness gives me joy.
the first time I see P. and M. since the funeral, the only time I felt comforted at all was the long minutes we pressed our foreheads together, our arms around each other’s shoulders so we were crying in a sort of cave made by our faces and we were all thinking of you with such remembered love and longing and regret there is no way if there is anything left of you, anything at all, you didn’t feel it