Ten years ago today, Tony and I got up early. We got dressed up and we drove to the San Diego County Recorder’s Office. We were first in line. We asked someone behind us in line to take a picture of us: the picture that accompanies this post. We had come the week before to get our marriage license, and when we went inside we only had to wait a few minutes before we were married by a lovely justice of the peace.
I cried. I said my vows with a heart that was full of love and optimism. While there were things about Tony that worried me, even then, my love was strong enough to overpower any fears I might have had. When I held his hands and looked into his eyes, I saw only love there for me. It was palpable. The justice of the peace could feel it – I know she could, because she positively beamed at us.
Afterwards, we drove to La Jolla Cove and went to a restaurant there for brunch. My sister Laura had pushed me for the name of the restaurant, and it turns out that was because my family wanted to treat us to brunch and champagne since they couldn’t be there with us. We had a beautiful meal, and then went out to the park to take pictures and call our families.
Time is a funny thing. On the one hand, these memories seem like they are part of another lifetime – and they are. They were from a time when Tony’s depression was minor, compared to what it became. A time before his more serious symptoms started to manifest themselves, and a time when I felt like we were really a team. On the other hand, it seems like yesterday. There are moments when I still can’t quite believe that he’s gone, that I will never see him again. As always, these memories are entangled with later, sadder ones.
Still, I’ll always remember how blue the sky was that day.