Breath by breath

Never before has the importance of being in the present felt so desperately important to me. I teach the importance of presence in my yoga classes; but until now, actually living from breath to breath, has never felt so intensely necessary. Focusing steadfastly on just.this.breath. has allowed over a week to pass since my soulmate tragically died in my arms. It's allowed me to wake up in the middle of the night, use the restroom, and go back to sleep without my mind darting to what was, and what was to be. It's allowed me to make it through a yoga class, completely dripping with grief and a sadness I never knew humanly possible. It's allowed me to eat, a bit, focusing on just chewing this one bite and keeping it down. It's allowed me to meditate on the Earth's beauty around me, the cycles still going on, even though my heart feels like its stopped. The sunrise is still beautiful, in fact, more beautiful than I ever noticed. The hair on my legs still grows, even though I don't understand why, and I wish it didn't. When I focus on each breath, my gaze moves more slowly. My eyes catch onto something they wouldn't have even noticed 10 days ago: a rainbow on the wall, a particularly fluffy cloud, a spider making its journey across the floor. There's a gentleness in my being where there used to be a rush. I want to know how the rainbow got there, where the cloud will go next, and help the spider complete his journey safely. Ted, you always told me to slow down. Now, you have it.

Yesterday, I couldn't do it. I was not breath to breath. I could hardly get out of bed. My mom dragged me out, literally dressing me as if I was a toddler who hadn't yet learned how. We went to the farmer's market to pick up a few things. We had only gone to the market together a couple times but immediately I was slapped by the memories. The same girl was at the cheese booth. Handing out samples to anxious customers. I was one of those customers just a few weeks ago – impatient to try the new goat's milk cheese and purchase it for our dinner guests. The man at the pickled-things booth. My mind raced to all of the jars of pickled calendula, sauerkraut, cucumbers, beets, garlic, olives in our fridge: your favorite snack or daily salad topper. We went into the food-court area. It was just a couple weeks ago we'd shared the Thai Salad. I was hungover, you ate most of it.

The most painful part yet: My eyes glanced at a man who was gingerly reaching across the table to his beloved's hand. He softly rubbed her hand and smiled peacefully at her across the table without words. No! That's how you grab my hand, Teddy. That's our look. That's our peace, and our love, and our gentleness. Fuck! Where are you!?

I'm seated, as far as possible from the smiling couple, trying to eat a crepe that's full of powerfully rich ingredients: smoked salmon, cream, capers, even bacon, I think. The richness disgusts me, it tastes too delectable for my grey insides. I pick at it then push it aside, realizing I'll need to rework my food choices. A little boy, playing with a cardboard sword leftover from his Halloween costume approaches my mother and I. He's slicing away at imaginary bad-guys in space just as I'm desperately looking for my man in the same invisible space. His eyes meet mine with that pure, all-knowing, yet completely innocent gaze of a child. I immediately weep. I think of the boy we were to create, Teddy. Half you, half me. "I hope they'll have your long legs!" I always joked. "Your good teeth and blonde hair," you would respond. "You have blonde hair too!" I would always argue. "My hair is BROWN!" you would say. We would laugh and you'd slide your hand across the picnic table, absentmindedly, to wrap your long, gentle fingers in mine. Both of us, silently and mischievously smiling as we imagined the brightness of the future we knew we deserved and had finally found. "Until then, we'll just practice, A LOT," we'd joke. Tears streamed down my face as the reality of this crushed future faced me through the innocent eyes of the boy with the sword.

Last Wednesday, your family proposed to me on your behalf, Teddy. Your mom, dad, sisters & brothers-in-law took me down to a little sitting area next to your Aunt Ginny's lake. They all held me and cried as your mom opened a ring-box, containing the most breath-taking diamond on Earth, and asked for my hand for you, and more importantly, for us - your family and I. I accepted, of course. The ring fit perfectly, the sparkle unavoidable. If your spirit were to exist in a diamond, it would be this one.

I learned of it containing diamonds from your grandparent's 50-year anniversary broach. I learned that you were going to propose to me any day. A morning, your mom told me, when I wouldn't expect it because it would be first thing, and then we'd have the whole day to celebrate and to plan our future. Now as a look at my ring-finger and see it dripping in sparkle, I think back on how much our proposal meant to me just 9 days ago. I wanted that SO badly. I wanted that guarantee of our future. I want to be able to hold up my hand in pride and not even have to say, "look how much he loves me!"  Now, I look down and the sadness resurfaces, again, and again. An engagement with no celebration, no parties, no registries, no wedding, no first kiss, no wedding-night. Did the Universe know this was going to happen when you chose a diamond shaped like a teardrop?

Now the whole desire for that beautiful engagement seems so trivial. All I want is you. No jewels or rings or promises, it's all fucking worthless without you. Without your laugh and the boyish glimmer in your eye when you do it. Your soft and inviting voice, always full of love. Your touch, knowing that sometimes there are no words needed, just a hug. Your humor, quite dirty, but still no match for mine. Your wit, always looking for a deeper lesson within. I will try to embody all of those beautiful elements of yours. I will continue to pick myself off the ground, breath by breath, moment by moment. I will try not to let my obsessive thoughts of the past and broken-future control me. I will try to modulate this sadness, one step at a time. I will recognize that grief is shattering to linear thought, it's not a disappearing act and it will come in waves. And I know, that there will never be a moment in my life when I think of you without being grateful for the pureness of our love, more pure than even this gorgeous stone on my hand.

I love you, Ted.