Bronnie loved traditions. From Thanksgiving being celebrated on the fourth Thursday in November – and not the following weekend when it would be waaay more convenient – to dusting off the eclectic mix of miniature toys we’d hang on the Christmas tree each year. To watching ‘The Muppets Christmas Carol’ movie every Christmas Eve afternoon to the reading of ‘Night Before Christmas’ every Christmas Eve night, to the smell of hot ham in the oven roasting with cloves. From ham & eggs and Bucks Fizz on Christmas morning to a traditional turkey ‘lunch’ at about 4.00 pm, to cold turkey and dark pickle onions with crackers on New Year’s eve night.
Bronnie and I would have been married 18 years today and, since we got married on his birthday, Bronnie would also have been aged 58.
And what I am remembering today this 11th June 2015 is how much Bronnie and I loved to laugh together.
As a couple, we were not particularly more loved up than any other, but we did like each other’s company for it’s own sake and could spend days and weeks together a deux without killing each other. This was perhaps the antidote to being quite a social pairing.
Today is the anniversary of Bronnie’s death – five years.
I am not working today and spending the day with one of my daughters.
I tried to explain to a colleague this week that I do not mark this day to be sad necessarily, but to take time to stop for a moment to respect someone who so deeply impacted my life. A day to remember, whether through laughter or tears, through words said or not said, that years ago today someone special was taken away.
Bronnie deserves that.
In that way, then, there is no ‘working through the stages of grief’ to be done today, although maybe we should consider there is another stage of grief. Mindfulness.
As reading material goes, I’m not big on biographies or memoirs. I suppose these missives can be an accurate record of someone’s life, loves and losses but, intellectually, I always wonder.
Wonder how much of the material is geared to the need to sell to appease market forces, editors and publishers. How much of a published life has been underplayed or exaggerated in order to make the numbers.
Then there is the sticky question of those who know the author intimately. So the next ponder must be how much of a biography or memoir’s truth is included or deleted to not piss off family, friends or upset other well established if dead legacies.