to bottom,

except for a

little bit of blue

in the middle.

the colors familiar

but blurred

by distance.

the movements,

(reanimated)

unseen, avoided.

until now.

(paused).

the smile,

the same one

i see everyday

but not.

(still paused).

i remember this

moment like i was

actually there and

now,

almost 12 years later,

i am.

watching it

as it happened, like

i’ve stumbled into

that alternate dimension

the scientists

were talking to

me about when

i couldn’t sleep.

i’ve been there

since, without

you.

it’s familiar but not,

the trees are gone

and they’re

not the only thing,

but seeing you move…

…

and then i tried

to remember why this

was the first time

i had seen it,

why i missed it

all those years ago.

and then i remembered

why, and i remembered

that photo of us

a few days later,

when i was dressed

in black and you

looked proud, and

i was surprised i had

made it.

the memories,

the photos,

and now…

after almost four

years of static moments,

captured and saved,

viewed and shared,

i saw you move…

and now i can’t.

that’s a question

i used to get asked

a lot in my previous life,

(you know, the one before my wife died)

it was either preceded by,

or sometimes followed by,

“what do you do?”

in my current life,

it matters less where

i’m from & what i do…

what’s more important,

especially to others

like me

are questions like,

“what happened?”

or

“how did you get here?”

and

“how long has it been?”

it’s weird for me

to consider that

the questions that

used to be normal

parts of a

“getting to know you” conversation

are now asked as an

afterthought, or aren’t

asked at all.

…

that got me to thinking

about how unimportant

our location is

in all of this.

of course

there are many significant

differences for widows/ers

in different places,

(including how some of us are supported both emotionally and financially after the death of our partners, among many other things)

but where we’re located

is less important

in this community

than our personal stories

of love, death, happiness, sadness

and all that follows.

and the differences that

naturally exist between

us because of

where we’re from

(which is a huge part of who we are)

dissolve pretty quickly

when there’s a unifying

force in our

lives like death.

and as much as it

sucks that we

all have this,

the death of a partner,

as such a huge

and defining

part of our lives,

it’s pretty fucking awesome

that we have each other,

no matter where

we’re from…

from an old friend

the other day…

at the end she

mentioned that she

attached a

photo that she’d

found while cleaning

her house.

it was a photo of

liz

and me in college.

(i would attach it here, but it’s a pretty awful photo of me).

i showed the photo

to maddy.

“who’s that guy with mommy?”

i was blown away.

yes, it’s true that

i’m almost unrecognizable

in the photo,

and that

liz

didn’t look that different

between the ages of

19 & 30,

but i found it

amazing that madeline

would recognize her

mother in a photo

taken 13 or 14

years ago,

yet not recognize me.

“maddy, that’s me.”

“no it’s not!

“yes, maddy, that’s me in the photo.”

“no it’s not!”

this went on

for a few more minutes

before i gave up.

there was

no way i was

going to convince her.

…

usually when she

talks about her mom

i get sad.

but this time

i was smiling.

i couldn’t help but

think that all of

the people

in her life have done

such a great job

of keeping her mother’s

memory alive.

and that’s pretty amazing.

to see maddy

with her auntie,

the two of them,

as close as they

would have been

if…

well, you know.

…

sometimes it’s the after

that defines

things, and after

everything that’s happened,

i’m happy that

this she is

such a big part of

our after.

my trip around

the country

talking about that

thing i worked

on for madeline.

it’s been a week

since i’ve seen

my baby.

(well, a week since i hugged my baby. i saw some photos that her grandma broccoli sent my way of maddy covered (and i mean covered) in temporary tattoos, and some more photos that the other grandparents have sent my way).

it has been awful

to be away

from her,

and i’ve been feeling

terribly guilty.

but then i reminded

myself that if

things had been

different, they

probably would have

been the same.

(but yeah, different).

i would still

be at my old job,

still traveling to

and from india

every few months,

still missing some

important moments,

still missing my baby.

all of it

to give her the

kind of future

she deserves.

so even though i

miss her more than

i can adequately describe,

it makes me long

for tomorrow.

(something i never expected).

and i hate to say it,

but it’s nice to know

that i can

(finally?)

find some

normalcy in our situation

(something i never expected).

i met someone

who will

die soon.

i looked back

at her, listening

as she shared

her life with me,

learning that she’d soon be

leaving her husband

in the position

i found myself in

on that day in

march 2008.

cancer was there,

staring me in the

face but all

i could see was

one of the strongest

people i had ever met.

i cried with her

(yeah, in public, in front of lots of other people)

and told her

that there was

a community of people

that would be there

for her husband

in case

(when?)

he needed it/them.

she nodded at me.

she knew that.

she was there to

say thanks for giving her

hope, to say thanks

in advance.

…

it just ruins me

to hear from

people like her,

to know that there will

soon be another

family like ours,

but it’s further

proof of the

power of community,

and a reminder that sometimes

(just by talking and writing about our situations)

we can change

the future for others.

some of the most

important people in our

lives will be with

us as we

celebrate maddy’s third birthday.

again.

(yeah, maddy’s birthday sort of runs from her actual birthdate of march 24th to her estimated due date of mid may).

she and her friends

will be beating

a piñata,

eating cupcakes,

and throwing things

around our backyard

while the adults

laugh at them.

she’ll probably

get a few gifts

(even though i asked people to donate to our favorite charity instead of giving gifts…some people will go ahead and do both as they have in years past).

(even i couldn’t follow my directions…i bought her a mini drum kit).

but today is the day

that one of

my most important

gifts to her

goes public.

she’s seen it already.

she’s held it

in her hands.

i’ve asked her who

the little girl is

on the front.

(she yells, “maddy!”).

i’ve showed her the

page that tells

the world exactly

who it’s for

(the page says her name…she recognizes the m).

i’ve told her what

it is.

and what it means

to me.

but she’s many years

away from

truly understanding.

at age 3 years

and a few weeks,

she just wants to

color on that mostly

empty page

dedicating my gift to her.

and she’d rather

read the book about space

that she insisted i

buy for her.

but someday

she’ll get it…

and i hope

it means the world

to her.

from the day that

my gift to madeline

becomes something that

people will publicly

judge, both

positively and negatively.

some will praise

the “story,” some will

criticize the writing.

some will find

something to

relate to and

others will wonder

how the hell

i “did it.”

i’m ready for all

of that,

but more than

anything, i hope that

someday my daughter

reads it and

realizes just how

much i love her.

a couple of maddy’s

toys went missing.

a zebra stuffed animal and

her baby doll.

for a few days

she asked me where

they’d gone.

i had no idea.

her stuff goes

missing all the time,

and i usually find

it pretty quickly.

i’ve searched everywhere

for them.

they’re not

in any of the

usual places

(i’m convinced they disappeared at daycare and have been buried under a mountain of toys, to be discovered accidentally sometime in the future).

but i told her

that i’d do my

best to find them.

…

a few days went by

during which she

didn’t mention her

missing toys.

then on monday,

on the way to daycare

she suddenly said,

“daddy? where are my zebra and baby?”

i gave her the

same answer i’ve

been giving all along:

“i don’t know. but i’m going to keep searching.”

then maddy said,

“my zebra and baby are dead, just like my mommy.”

…

fuck.

it’s not the first

time she’s talked

about her mommy

being dead,

(and it hurts everytime)

but it’s

the first time she’s

demonstrated to me

that she has at least

a tacit understanding

of what death means.

…

i keep looking for

those missing toys, but

now i’m worried that

if i find them

and give them to her,

i’ll be fucking up

her understanding of death.

…

if i do

find them,

i’ll put my worries

aside, give her

the toys

and do my best

to once again,

explain death

to a child under 3.

(and i know for sure that this never gets easier).