+ This may triggering for people who have lost their spouse / partner *

And so Spring begins, creeping in with the rising sun. Our days stretch longer, our nights illuminate later, our souls dance to new rhythms.

Spring has been so unkind to me… it ushers in many death dates: my friend, my brother, Mother’s Day, mom’s birthday, mom’s death day. Last year there were only three significant dates — I say only, as if three dates isn’t a lot already — May 4, the day I lost a friend. May 5, the last time I saw and heard from my brother. May 7, the day police discovered his body.

I call it “Hell Week,” that first embittered week of May. I call them “Death Holidays” now… I can’t quite think of a better term.

* * * *

In 2022, Scott and I chose to get married in the early Spring. We wanted to bring something happy into our Spring. Despite everything, Spring remains one of my favorite seasons: it’s the season the world comes back to life. But for us, it’s a season of so much death.

April 22nd marks our three year wedding anniversary, yet these three years have felt like a decade in some ways.

Despite our best efforts, our one wedding date only glimmers compared to the black holes of our five death dates. It feels like such a speck of light this year amidst a galaxy of darkness.

Years ago, perhaps even more than a decade ago, I remember sitting with my friend Gabi and discussing how it’s important to choose someone with whom to suffer well.

Suffering brought Scott and I together, but we didn’t really find each other [romantically] until years later. We began dating in a beautiful season of bliss with neither one of us actively enduring tragedy. We both had grown, and we often talked about how nice it was to get to know each other when life wasn’t falling apart.

I wish I would have enjoyed our engagement more. Truthfully, I didn’t want a wedding and the planning stressed me out. Scott was figuring out a way to move to Florida and we were trying to buy a house together, too… it was a lot.

In hindsight, I wish I would have simply enjoyed planning things with my Mom.

But we just don’t get time back, do we? *sigh*

* * * *

Scott and I have been through so much together, and lately I’ve been grateful that I did choose someone to suffer well with, because we’ve suffered more than we could have imagined.

For years, I did not want to get married. I was afraid of how allowing someone into my life and into my safe space would disrupt my peace and ultimately harm me. I was happy being single… it was safe and calm. I could not imagine someone actually helping me navigate pain.

I idealized my parents’ marriage, and in many ways I still do. I didn’t think it was possible to find a love like theirs. They adored one another, they loved to be together, they helped each other, and they put their relationship first… until one day, she didn’t.

To have two family members’ lives so abruptly destroyed severs attachment beyond communicability.

Initially, I feared that Scott and I would fall apart. To lose my Mom, to lose my parents’ relationship shakes everything.

But we haven’t fallen apart, we’re learning to face death and suicide again. We’ve learned to suffer well, if anyone really can suffer well.

* * * *

Our anniversary is a blessing, and in some ways feels like a miracle. It’s a date of happiness amidst dates of death and sorrow. It’s a date of love still living, of life still blooming, of grace still emanating.

Ultimately, I am hyper aware that we won’t be in this together forever. I hope and pray we live natural lives and die natural deaths, supporting one another til one of us does die. That would be ideal.

Nonetheless, I’m grateful for the todays. I’m grateful for our life together, our home together, our rhythms together. I’m grateful for our love, our peace, and our laughter. I’m grateful for our quiet moments, I’m grateful for our adventures. I’m grateful that we have each other at the end of each day, and I’m grateful for how much we enjoy one another’s company.

I’m sorry our first few years of marriage carry so much heartache. I’m grateful for the comfort we have in each other. I’m grateful for the peace and calm that Scott has protected in our lives. I’m grateful that we suffer together, supporting one another. I am grateful for every today that we get.

I hope our years won’t always be this painful. Thank you, Scott, for bringing comfort and kindness to my life each day. I love you 🩵