A Sad Anniversary

I woke up Monday morning feeling sad for no apparent reason. That cloud of gloom hung over me all day, and it wasn’t until the following morning that I realized I had “forgotten” the anniversary of my late husband Wayne’s death twelve years ago. After twelve years, my conscious mind barely acknowledges the day anymore, but something deeper doesn’t allow me to forget it.

I was on four days of bereavement leave for my father’s funeral when Wayne’s cancer entered its terminal stage. Still numb from my father’s sudden death, I managed to secure the services of a live-in attendant to help me care for Wayne at home. That Monday I felt that everything was under control and returned to work; but I was at work for only an hour when the attendant phoned me to return home immediately. The trip took 45 minutes in the freeway traffic, and when I arrived, Wayne was dead. He was about the same age I am now, an unfinished life.

The world has changed so much in those twelve years. Wayne died before the O.J. Simpson verdict, 9/11, and the Afghanistan and Iraq wars. Very few people had cell phones then, or had heard of iPods or digital cameras. I have also moved on, so that my life is now at a better place than I ever could have imagined at the time. Reflecting on Wayne’s death reminds me not to take life for granted, or to expect that life-changing events won’t happen again, but to count my blessings and enjoy each day that I am given on this earth.