Robert Christopher Whalen
February 11, 1979 - May 12, 2006
I remember the night I took this...Our anniversary. We celebrated by returning to the drive-in, where we had our first official "date" two years prior. It was super hot, the dead of August, the mosquitoes attacked us as we laid outside the car on blankets, eating ice cream and trying to pay attention to the movie. When we could take no more of the mosquitoes incessant biting, we crawled back into the car. Once alone together, we got lost in the heaviness of the air that surrounded us, in the heaviness of our own breathing. As was often the case when I spent time with you, that was a magical night...and many more followed.
9 months later you were dead....Died alone on the floor of your mothers living room, needle still in your arm. I remember when I got the call. It was a Saturday, and the sun had just made its way up. I remember thinking "who the fuck is calling me at this hour?"....annoyed, indignant.
In the days that followed, I was your widow...although never married. Black dress, black shawl, hair pulled back from my swollen red face. I held your brothers tear-streaked hand as we pushed your casket to the front of St. Mary's, lit candles at the pulpit...."Peace be with you, and also with you". In the unbearable grief of those moments, I grew up. No longer twenty-seven, I felt as if I'd lived a thousand lives...I was changed forever.
"Every loss is an opportunity"...Today, three years after you've gone....these words ring true for me.
Thanks for blessing my universe for as long as you could.
Om Shanti.
