I'm invariably drawn to thoughts of M.
Today, last year, he was recovering from the persistent discomfort (and i now know) fear that haunted him January. He was preparing for his annual physical, which was to occur on the 11th.
We talked about what he would bring up. My concerns that his diet had deteriorated. My concern over his cholesterol, blood pressure and diabetes... his concerns over what was happening with him, symptoms that he hadn't shared with me.
Every day is sinking deeper into the morass that was last year, at this time.
I keep thinking, so, while we were going to the movies, or I was working on a choreography, the cancer was this big.
And Valentines Day is looming.
As with so many other couples, it mattered to us. Different than in both of our previous relationships, we strove to make it so special for either.
I would cook for him, taking extra special care that the house looked nice (which I normally could care less about) making his favorite meal, setting the table, flowers, a card for him...
One of his favorite gifts from me is a pink muppet, that sings the manamana song, lights up, jaws move, and has movable arms that go with the song.
it was a very silly gift, but he lit up when he opened it.
It made him so happy, his words to me were that he had never felt as "special" to anyone as I made him feel.
It was a joy to do special things for him, to see his face light up, watch his shoulders shimmy (totally unconscious for him) when he was especially happy.
It's been a tough weekend.
And I have people around me who love me, who want to help me.
My sister heard me crying, great gasping sobs. She came upstairs with her partner and they bracketed me, holding and rocking me until I quieted.
I later watched them dancing, in the kitchen, just sharing a loving moment.
And I remember him.