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(This is a little different than most of my writing, and full of feels.)
November second is the only day of the year I know he’ll be awake before me. I stretch, wash up, and head into kitchen to look for Russel. There’s a tea bag resting in a metal ramekin. I turn toward the living room and find him leaning against the open porch door. He’s got a in both hands. It’s a bit chilly. The dawn sun is streaming, brilliant and beautiful. I wrap my robed arms around myself and walk up toward him.
“Hey,” I say, so I don’t startle him. “Good morning.”
Russel turns to look at me and smiles that sad smile. “Hey there.” We exchange a kiss.
I place a hand on his shoulder and let him contemplate the woods beyond our house.
“Do you want to leave at nine still?” I ask.
Russel nods, distant.
I pat him on the shoulder again and head back into kitchen.
When Russel was 7, he fell through ice over a pond by his house. His older brother jumped in to push him out, but he did not survive himself because he couldn’t get out.
When I started dating Russel, it was in October, so he had to explain to me why it was he turned down a date on November second.
I was the one who proposed the ritual: We get up. We eat nice breakfast. Then, I pack his brother’s favorite meal – hotdogs and macaroni and cheese with broccoli, and Pepsi – then we drive four hours to the cemetery. Sometimes Russel’s family meets us there. Sometimes they go later. It’s hard for them too.
I lay out the blanket. Then, I sit there and hold Russel’s hand and listen to him tell Brandon everything he accomplished that year and what his brother’s missing out on. At first, it was kind of boring and awkward; but watching the passion and love pour out of Russel has taught me the importance of embracing life and enjoying time with the ones you love. Now, I talk to Brandon too.
Russel and I finish the trip by eating lunch, and then driving back home. Sometimes we’ll stop in town to see a movie, and eat out for dinner. Do something fun and cheerful.
By the time we get home, we’re exhausted and ready for bed. When November third comes? Russel is back to normal and sleeping in like hibernating bear. I have to bribe him with coffee and/or humping him to wake him up. He’s such an interesting man. There’s lots to love about him. I’m glad I married him fifteen years ago.
I’ve often thought about what our future holds. I wonder which one of us will die first. I’ve decided, that I hope he goes before me. I don’t want him to have to sit in front of two headstones without anyone to hold his hand.
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Captions are fictional.
