NOSTALGIA

Some how it was decided that the two of us, Michael and I, would go to the Star Wars toy exhibit at the National Museum of Toys and Miniatures on Saturday. The exhibit ends soon and with schedules being what they are these days, this would be our last chance. The weather was beautiful and we probably should have spent the day cleaning out the gutters, but we hopped on our scooters and scooted around for an afternoon date instead. And it truly was one of the nicest days we’ve had together in several months. We borrowed magnifying glasses and spied at all of the miniatures up close. They have a miniature piano the size of the palm of my hand that is tunable and can be played! We practiced placing teeny tiny clock hands onto a miniature clock. Michael kept talking about building a miniature version of our house, but I put an end to that one. We’ve been watching The Miniature Wife. I don’t want a miniature replica of my house. If I’m going to end up wee, he might as well build me a miniature luxury mansion.

When we finally made it to the Star Wars exhibit, I had moment where I though I was going to start crying. I felt the tightness in my throat and the tears start to well up. I managed to swallow all of that as Michael pointed at various action figures while saying “I had that one and that one and that one….” It was like the exhibit was a collection of his very own childhood toys and he was so happy to see them all again. We passed a glass case containing a Han in carbonite and I said “Chris always wanted a Han in carbonite for a front door.” Michael stopped in his tracks and replied “OHMYGOD that’s brilliant. Can we have a Chris door?!?” I shrugged and said “Sure.” and then I remembered why I agreed to this relationship that started almost thirteen years ago.

Michael sat across from me at a table at Blue Koi, the one that used be on 39th Street. We’d been seeing each other for about two or three months. He looked me straight in the eyes and said “Chris never goes away.” He knew that he was not a replacement. Nor has he grown into being a replacement. That might sound harsh or cold, but the truth is that my relationship with Michael is nothing like the one I had with Chris. It is not easy. This relationship requires making an effort on both sides. I am not so conceited to believe that I am his perfect ideal situation either. We have to practice mindful communication with each other. We have to plan our spontaneous date moments. We have to take turns in decision making. We have to make compromises. We have to show up. And we do.

For the most part.

I keep hearing little snippets of gossip surrounding the actress Aubrey Plaza. Her husband committed suicide last year. There was a list of haters at that time who went onto bash Aubrey for not being there for her spouse and blah blah blah. They were separated at the time, which made people even meaner about the whole thing. She very recently announced her pregnancy with her new partner. It’s been a year since her husband died and of course the bashing has commenced. I immediately want to raise my sword and defend this young woman. There are hundreds of reasons for her actions but most importantly, this is none of anyone’s business. I waited a year before I started online dating, mostly out of boredom and partly as a social experiment. I met Michael a year and half after Chris died and Chris and I had a solid partnership. There are no time limits or rules for a grieving widow. We do what we need to do for ourselves in order to live a life.

Not just exist in a life.

The way we choose to live our lives is a reflection on those we have lost. Not to live our lives for them or whatever way we might think they’d want us to live. But to take what we learned from being together to live a life that honors one’s true self. I like to think I’m doing that, that Chris would be proud of the effort I put into this relationship with Michael. Probably a little surprised that I am capable of it, if I’m honest. But life is too short and uncertain to waste hesitating because of societal constructs.