The Marking of Time

Fourteen years ago today, I was in Maui, about to get Maui-ed. I know, I’m hilariously punny. I had on the white dress, my short blonde hair was tousling in the wind, and everyone was waiting for me to walk down the aisle. I call this version of myself Robyn 1.0. She was cool, and I love her, and also she had no clue who she was or what the hell she was doing.

But she was about to find out.

Since Zak’s death almost 12 years ago I have become the keeper of all the memories we shared. Sometimes it’s lonely to be the one left to remember. Also it’s a big responsibility and as I write my book, I take this responsibility more serious than ever. To be clear, the book isn’t focused on Zak and his death, or even our marriage for that matter, it’s about me.

But of course a big part of who I am now, is about who I was then. And all the versions I passed through between then and now.

There is one main tenet I hold firmly in the telling of my tale:

To tell the truth no matter what. No matter how embarrassing, or shame inducing, or however I used to label it. True this telling is my version of the truth and it won’t match his version. But I also work hard to consider not just my viewpoint, but his as well. Also, I’m not afraid to own my own shit and take accountability for my part in our relationship and marriage. Friends, there’s a lot of shit owning going on.

And so, each year I’m not sad when my old wedding anniversary rolls around. Instead I mark it. Usually for myself, but here this year, with you all as well. He’s been gone for years and when I think of some dumbass joke he made, I laugh. Or even last month in the middle of writing a scene in the book I thought, oh, I can’t remember the full details, l’ll call Zak and ask him. And then I remember I cannot. This rusty reflex still lives inside of me.

I’m most pleased that after these years, and in spite of all the shit I went through after Zak’s death with the secret life he kept, I’m still able to recall him with a laugh and a smile.