A lot of my time here has been about remembering. The brain fog from my husband’s sudden death has compounded normal memory loss. I’ll be walking through a park and remember I always used to come in from the North side of the park and have to really think to remember I lived for three weeks in an apartment in that part of town.
Little memories keep coming back.
But one memory is especially important.
We went to the park today and played in the sand. We’ve done that every day at least once. Each time a different place.
This time, while at the park, I remembered that on my way to meet Shah, I stayed in Amsterdam for four days, because I really wasn’t interested in him and wanted to see my Dutch friends, before making a quick stop in Istanbul where he was living to explore the city. (Long time readers know how that went. Cupid struck.)
While in Amsterdam nearly five years ago, I met a friend for a drink at the cafe attached to this park. We talked about many things, but I distinctly remember watching all of the parents and their kids playing in the park and wishing I could have a child playing at that park. At that point, I was 35 with no hope of a relationship or a child. It wasn’t even a “I hope some day” type of hope, but more of a deep longing for what I thought was impossible and never to be, (unless I magically snagged a Dutch man during that four day stop, of course.)
Suddenly today, I found myself doing exactly what I had longed for, but never imagined would happen. As I sat on the side of the sandbox watching Zoya, I remembered that day and that longing.
And as I told my friend today about that memory I realized I was feeling truly content.
One of the complicated things about grief is that it is still always very present, but is not always all consuming. I miss my husband and wish he were still alive. Full stop. Also, I have had a deep desire fulfilled and I am content.