The little losses

(originally written 10/30/06)

This may fall under the category of too much information, but I think I crossed that line a while back.

Deb had this mole on her right side of her back just above her bottom. Whenever I held her close in bed, I could feel it, and I liked to flick my finger over it. This, I told her, is my mole. You're never having it removed.

I was thinking about it last night, and realized I'm never going to have the chance to do that again.

Then today the message disappeared.

I had Deb's last phone message to me still in my saved messages on my voice mail. I have it committed to memory, because for the last six weeks, whenever I've been really down, I'd listen to it to hear her voice and pretend, if only for a moment, that this is all a ghastly mistake.

"Hey sweetie, it's me. I'm just calling to see if you're coming back tonight to visit because visiting hours are over, so you'll have to come in through the children's hospital. I hope you do, because I miss you. See you soon, love you, bye-bye."

I should have guessed the company doesn't keep phone messages forever, and I knew I should have figured out a way to record the message on my computer. I do have a videotape of her that she made before I met her, so I do have recordings of her voice.

But this was the only one I had of her saying "Love you."

This, I think, is the part of the mourning process they don't tell you about. Yes, you lose your wife, your husband, your child, your parents, your loved one when they die, and that's the big loss. But then, little by little, piece by piece, you lose the little things they added to your life on a daily basis, and those are the little losses.

In a way, they die over and over again.

I know the holidays are going to be hell this year because I'll remember all the little things I've lost, like her face when she tried the first batch of my holiday fudge. Or her exclaiming "Cool beans!" when she opened a present she really liked. Or our annual New Year's kiss.

Frankly, I just want this year to end now.