girl drew

Today, when setting up an online account, I was prompted to select a security question. The first one on the list was, “In what city or state did you meet your spouse/significant other?” I automatically moved past it, instead selecting “What street did you live on in third grade?” (and, if you know, shut your mouth!). The spouse/significant other question wasn’t upsetting, but the options didn’t include “late husband,” so it didn’t seem appropriate for me. Tomorrow we enter July, which means that we’re closing in on the anniversary of Ramón’s death, July 20. For me, there’s nothing about that particular day that will separate it from the rest. I imagine people will be reminded — via Facebook memories and the like — and might post updates or send me texts. And, just like other days, I’ll struggle with how to respond. When people say that they can’t imagine my pain, I often feel guilty because, for the most part, I’m enjoying life. Alternatively, when I respond happily, it feels like may...

One day last June while I was staying in the hospital with Ramón, I decided to watch the video of his swearing in ceremony. Since he was minimally conscious, I thought it would be good for him to hear familiar voices, including his own, on what he deemed one of the best days of his life. As I hit play, a nurse practitioner entered the room. Though I was tempted to pause and quickly minimize the video, I didn’t; she asked what I was watching. When I told her, she was curious to see, so I skipped to the ending where Ramón got up to speak. With teary eyes, she told me she’d never heard his voice before. I often think about Ramón’s thank you to everyone who opened doors for him. He claimed that all he had to do was walk through the open doors, but he did more than leisurely strut through them. Ramón nudged them open further — even banged them down if necessary — then caught everyone’s attention with his calm command and charismatic smile. Ramón opened many doors for me too, literally and f...