Susan died a year ago today. I’ve been grappling with a few thoughts. None of them especially deep, but here’s what’s on my mind.
- I think Susan would be happy with where I am. Susan and I had some very frank — but private — conversations during the times she was lucid. I think about these often, and am pretty frankly amazed at how some of the things she said she wanted have happened. My life is good now, the kids are doing well. Susan would be happy about that.
- I’ve avoided letting Susan’s biggest worry happen. Several times, Susan told me that she was worried that I would let her death change me, turning me into an angry and bitter person. That’s the opposite of who I’ve always been, and she didn’t want me to, in effect, become someone else. She wanted me to stay who I am, and I have. I’m proud of that.
- I don’t want this day to be a big day. It’s school break right now, and so the kids don’t even look at calendars (in fact, I’m pretty sure they studiously avoid looking at the calendar, so as not to have to think about the fact that later this month they’ll be back in school). The important thing about Susan wasn’t her death, it was the way she lived. So while I will talk with the kids today, I don’t think I’ll make it a big day. I think maybe Susan’s birthday is a better, more appropriate day to celebrate her life.