6 years.

6 years. How can that amount of time seem worlds away and so near at the same time? Has it really been that long? Lifetimes ago. Yesterday. I was so young and so in love. My heart could have burst out of my chest and lived a life of its own. That 'being in love' feeling is unlike anything in the world. I would bottle it and sell it, if only I could. We weren't perfect. Not even close, but he was my little piece of the dream. Rodrigo wasn't perfect. I am not perfect. I would never say that our life together was without the low points. Because that would make the high points seem insignificant. But that isn't what this post is supposed to get out of my system. I will save that for another time. This post is remembering him. Because I want too. Today and Forever.



-2003-

I used to wake up sobbing, from horrible nightmares. Rodrigo would sooth me and I would drift back to sleep. They were always the same. A call in the middle of the night. His family needed him back in Mexico right away.

He had been in the US, completely legal for 9 years. His family had been trying to get him to 'go home' for 8. At this point he and I had been together for 5 and there was no end in sight. We had plans. We had a cozy little house, a couple of cars that ran most of the time and jobs that we didn't hate. He was bound and determined to name our first baby after me. No matter boy or girl. We knew that we wanted to be married for a while before we started a family. He was all too aware of the fertility problems we faced. He grabbed my hand and we soldiered on. We had plans. A future.

That nightmare came true December 21, 2003. His mother had been in a car accident and he needed to go to her as soon as possible. A plane ticket was purchased on two days notice. He would fly out of an airport 5 hours from our little house and our little plans on December 23, 2003. I could only think that he was leaving me right before Christmas. He was only going to be gone for a little while. A month. A month and a half. We would be fine. Everything would be fine.

The night before he left we had our own little Christmas morning. We opened each others gifts, trying to smile through our tears. His departure didn't feel like a 'see you later'. It seemed like a big solid 'goodbye'. It was the gut feeling that I had. I tried to make myself believe that I would just have some time for me. Then he would come back and we would resume our life together. My head just couldn't talk my heart into it. Crying for 3 days solid seems like such an over reaction to a vacation. But I knew in my heart that I would never see him again. I don't know how I knew. Maybe it was just me being pessimistic. Maybe it really was just my gut feeling getting me ready-for my life as I knew it, to be over. Who knows.



My Dad decided that I shouldn't drive the 5 hours home from the airport by myself. I guess my youngest brother drew the shortest straw. But I am more inclined to believe that Dad knew what my gut was telling me. It's almost creepy the way that things work with me and the fam. We just really 'get' each other. The trip to the airport was made in the blink of an eye. Or that's how it felt to me. It was the first time that I had been to the airport since 9-11. It was unbelievable how long it took to get through to the ticket booth. We spent most of the morning in line. I alternated between hanging onto Rodrigo for dear life and pacing the halls. The end was all but in sight and my nerves were raw. Him being gone inched closer and closer. In all reality it should have flown by. But I was suffering with every minute so it seemed like forever. A boarding call and the final gate through security. I would have to stay on this side. Just up the escalator, that is as far as I could go with him. One last kiss. We cry together for just a minute. He is gone through the gate. I catch one last look at him. The last I will ever get. I am carried from the airport by my little brother. The pain is just too much I can't make my knees work. He puts me in the car and starts the long drive home. I will forever be grateful for that kid. He was only 19 at the time and his emotions and his compassion for a broken heart was known well beyond his years. He once told me that he had "a gut feeling, that day would change both of our lives forever". So smart for a gangley teenage kid.

Rodrigo changed me in ways that only true love can, but that is also a post for another time. Today I just want to remember the happiness of having him for the time that I did and the bittersweet feeling of spending 5 years with him. I can't fathom the feelings that are still so near the surface on this day for me. It's been 6 years it should all be dull by now. It's not it still hurts and there is still anger and resentment. Tonight I am going to sit by my tree, cry and remember. Because it's OK to cry and it's OK to remember. -V