Thirteenth Anniversary

Today marks thirteen years since I married Stanley Arthur Coombs. Thirteen was our number: We met on a thirteenth and married on a different thirteenth the following year. We mentioned, at the very least, that it was our day on the thirteenth of every month we were together. 

I wrote some solid things that are still true for our tenth anniversary on this blog, and I don't want to repeat myself. I'll use this space to say that Stanley died in 2016, so this anniversary marks a moment in time when I've survived him almost as long as I was married to him. We only missed celebrating our seventh anniversary together by a month and half, so the marriage still wins by a few months at this point, but the symmetry being so close on "our number" anniversary seems significant to me.

If you know that Stanley was twenty-four years older than me, you might wonder why I was so blindsided that he predeceased me by so many years. 

He always seemed healthy and youthful. The world was a place of new experiences and ceaseless wonder for him. He was never old. His parents also both lived well into their eighties, and I figured he must've inherited some longevity, and we had at least twenty more years ahead of us in 2016. 

I'd forgotten that he'd smoked a pack a day for forty years before he met me. 

It was easy to forget because as soon as I mentioned that I didn't appreciate smoking, he quit. I never saw him with a cigarette. 

If only the cells in his lungs could've forgotten so easily! 

Our short years together compacted an insane amount of love and joy. We did everything right, from finding each other at long last, to not waiting long to marry, to wandering all around the United States and Spain, enjoying life on Earth in all its complexity. 

Our relationship changed to the nonphysical realm too quickly. Tobacco companies stole some two decades from us. Stanley always said, "You gotta die from something." It's true, but I can't help but think that something so stupid and preventable was unworthy of my wonderful husband. 

It was too late by the time I met him. 

It may not be too late for you. 

The present moment is all we have.