August 19, 2022
Another year of gazing over the same ancient photos of our wedding day. Photos taken by fools who had no idea, and no idea of how valuable those poorly composed, cluttered, badly lit photos would become.
Photos Iâve edited over and over as I try to breath new life into still images, as if I can bring him back to life.
Remembering certain details with such clarity, and other moments lost over time.
Sixteen years. I often wonder how our marriage would have looked at this stage. Would we even be together? So many couples just donât make it, do they? Would we have decided to have kids? Doubtful. Dogs? Yes, surely.
Would we have even made it off the island? Would his music ever be recognized? Would he have helped me shape my business? My craft?
In a parallel universe did we ever get the house with the pool so he could have those blue drinks he wanted?
I tried so hard to make him happy, but I wonder if he ever was. Did he exist in a natural, perpetual state of angst? Or was that just the Nick I knew? The Nick that had been formed by his story, his past, his family obligations, his frustrations.
So many questions unanswered. And still our love story shaped me. And left me unwilling or unable to move forward. In a way.
The Fates brought us together, grief followed and then a decade of stagnation and unwillingness to even consider finding love, especially in this hell-scape.
I remember one night after a photo shoot with Brandi I bought her dinner and drinks at the fancy bar down town. Feeling adultish and young, we were talking about my lack of romance. She asked what I sought in a partnerâŚÂ My match really. In travel, in languages, education maybe. She scoffed and said, âYouâre not going to find him here.âÂ
So here I am, sixteen years ago I was married in this house, on this day. Thirteen years a widow. Now caregiver to my ailing mother.
She was brought here by duty, I was brought here by grief, and stayed out of guilt. Both of us stuck, like insects trapped in amber. Lost in time.
What a lonely existence.












