Twelve months ago

Twelve months ago, I was married to the most beautiful girl in the world. She would tell me sometimes that I needed to get my eyes checked, because she knew she wasn't a supermodel. I told her that even if I was the only person in the world that knew she was the most beautiful girl in the world, that just meant I was special.

Twelve months ago, I was happier than I ever thought I was going to be. I had more or less convinced myself that I was never going to find love, that all the things I had dreamed love could be would never live up to my expectations, that I would either end up alone or with someone I had just settled for, or who had settled for me. I was wrong on all counts.

Twelve months ago, I was optimistic. Worried, yes. But my wife was home from the hospital, and I was sure she was going to regain her strength, get back into chemotherapy, and we'd have a happy ending.

Twelve months ago, I was in love with the bravest girl in the world, who knew what was coming and was more worried about me than about herself.

Twelve months ago, I had a hand to hold onto.

Twelve months ago, I had someone to spend the holidays with.

Twelve months ago, I had someone to kiss.

Twelve months ago, my wife died.

Today, I am thinking about her.

Today, I am trying to keep my promise to her to go on, to live my life.

Today, I am trying to keep an open mind about falling in love again, as ridiculous a notion as I have ever held.

Today, I have two crazy cats who were her joy and keep me from coming home to an empty house, who I think were part of her plan to help me get through life without her

Today, I am wishing she was here, but knowing if the options were her still having cancer and suffering or being where she is and beyond all that, the choice is clear.

Today, I am remembering her laugh, her eyes, her smile. I am not remembering her scar, her disease, her last moments.

Today, I am honored that of all the people in the world, I was the one who was blessed enough to be her husband. To hold her hand. To kiss her.

Today, I will take some helium balloons and tie little notes to them that read, "I love you." And I will let them go. And maybe someone somewhere will find one of these notes and wonder what possessed someone to do it.

And you will know what it was.