One year ago and 39 days from now

We stood outside a bar in Manhattan dodging the rain, talking about what day we wanted to get married. Just 1 day after he dropped to his knee and asked me to marry him, we were "planning" our distant future wedding. It was a year ago he asked. It is 39 days till we say we do.

About a month ago, he and I were talking about love and how much we had for the other. We spoke about when and how we fell in love. He told me he loved me long before he told me that October day standing on the edge of the canyon. I told him that yes, I did love him, but it wasn't until much later that I fell "in love" with him.

In fact, I didn't truly believe of being "in love" till about 6 months ago. He asked me if I was in love with him when he asked for my hand. I told him no. He asked me why I said yes to his proposal. I said that I truly believed my feelings were as deep as they would ever get. For anyone. How wrong I was.

I remember sitting at home watching Netflix before bed, and I immediately had this overwhelming need to breathe. I didn't think, in that moment, that I would be able to take my next breath without him in it. My heart began to ache, and I began to cry. For a week straight, I cried myself silently to sleep. I knew I was in love. I knew I could never return from where I was. I had never been so scared to lose someone, and so deliciously vulnerable to the plight of someone else.

Today, although one year from him placing that ring on my finger, is one step closer to the day I get to call him mine. We inch ever closer. A year ago, it seemed like a distant dream. Now, it seems like a breath away. I am trying desperately to hold on to these feelings of anxiousness and eagerness and insanity and breathlessness because they keep me alive and ready for that moment I walk down the aisle toward the one who dropped to one knee and asked me to be his.

Prayers, dear friends, are tenderly welcome. Not just for me...but for j as well. We are moments from being one; however, if you ask me in a few moments, it couldn't be further from now. Blessings!

Comments

Tiger must stay in your backpack...

I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go. And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought. This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality. ...

A goodbye love letter to you...

I sat across from my dad at lunch, yesterday, and asked him, "Do you know what tomorrow is?" He said, "Yeah. 1 year." And his eyes grew damp. "I'll never forget walking into that room..." He didn't continue. I didn't ask him to. "I'll never forget the police officer banging on my door at 1130 at night..." I didn't continue. He didn't ask me to. "This journal was given to me several years ago by my children. I know they wanted me to write down my thoughts to get through the rough times I was going through at the time. I did not start this at that time. Why am I starting it now? Well, I only thought I had been through hell back then, but now I realize I didn't have any idea what heartache was until Aug 15, 2010 -" This is the beginning of one of my mother's journals. A journal she started a little over a month after Andy died. And she wrote it--to him. "Dear Mother - Today is the day before Mothe...

Arithmetic of Purpose

By nature, humans will, at one point in their life, ask the question, "For what purpose? Why am I here? What am I meant to do?" Okay, maybe they will ask themselves more than 1 question...but at least around the same theme. "Who am I, and why am I here?" It is built in our very DNA. Growing up, I didn't ask this often. I had a loving family who went with the current. Who I was and why I was here was bound up in my place in my family of 4. I was comfy. I was loved. I was secure. But alas...the question presented itself. I first asked myself this question walking down the streets of Rome. I was alone, I was 21, and I was lost. I had just finished AmeriCorps and felt like I wanted something, but wasn't sure what that was. I had found my faith, at last, and realized that perhaps I wanted to be a bigger part of the Church collective. I felt meaning to my nothingness. I went home with direction. I graduated from college, finally, and started grad school to be...

"Getting older's not been on my plans"

Search This Blog