May 5th
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May 5, 2004 was a Wednesday. It was quite possibly, the longest day in my life. It was certainly one of the worst. I hope you'll read about it here
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I'm struggling on the memory front tonight. I have so many, but they all feel blurred together. I'm scared that I'm losing my memories of him. Instead of a memory, I think I'll write a letter to him. Please, if you have a memory, will you share it? Please?

Dear Joe,
You used to have the most amazing voice. It was so deep. Al never met you but she spoke to you on the phone a few times and used to call you Mr. Sexy. You had what I called a radio voice. You were meant to be on the radio. Not only did you have a great voice but you were a great commentator. You were quick, and witty, and super funny. I miss your voice. I have it saved in two places. Our old answering machine, and one scene of video. I haven't played either since you died. I'm afraid of how I'll react upon hearing your voice. Sometimes I hear it in my dreams, but it's not your old voice. It's a scared voice; the voice you had in the hospital. I hate that your voice was taken from you. I hate that I never got to hear it those final days.

Do you remember when we went for pre-marital counseling? The whole time the rabbi was talking to us, and asking us questions, you were pacing the room. You never sat next to me, never held my hand. You were a wreck. I was sure the rabbi would say that she wouldn't marry us. But despite your pacing, you gave really good answers about me. When asked why you wanted to marry me, you told the rabbi that you knew I would be a great mother to our future kids. You told her that I was a good cook, and that you loved being around me. She married us despite your pacing. My sister has said that you walked down the aisle with the biggest grin that she had ever seen. You were that happy. The rabbi officiated your funeral as well. She shared the story of our pre-marital counseling, but in her version we were sitting snuggled together on her couch. I like the real version more. It's more you.

Do you remember the day I miscarried? Strangely enough we had discovered that I was pregnant on May 6, 2002. We were so excited and told everyone we knew. At the end of June I had heavy bleeding, and we both knew something bad had happened. We came home from the hospital that night and lay in bed together and watched a marathon of House Hunters. We snuggled, and cried, and planned to plant a rose bush in honor of the baby that wasn't, and in between we debated which house would be picked. 13 months later Jacob entered the world, and the year after that you were dead. When Jacob was born I remember us saying, "If only we had known a year ago when we were so sad that we'd have this amazing baby a year later." And then when you died I kept thinking, if only we had known when Jacob was born that a year later you'd be gone....

You came to me last night in my dreams, Joe. It wasn't a good dream. I ended up crying all night. Send me good dreams tonight, ok? Four years ago tonight was our last night together. I know you knew that I was there with you. Tomorrow I will go to work and the boys will go to school, and then we will come visit you at the cemetery. Joshua had an interesting theory of how the rocks that we leave at the cemetery get to you. He said that storks pick them up, and fly them up to heaven. Jacob quickly corrected him by saying, "Actually, aliens come down and fly in their spaceships up to heaven, right mommy?" You sons are so ridiculously cute, Joe. I hope you know that. I hope you are still watching us. I hope.

Tomorrow will likely be bad. But that's ok. We will get through it like always. I will cry and share memories with those that will listen. We haven't forgotten you Joe. You have not been forgotten.
love,
b

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