An unwanted anniversary gift

“So have you decided what you’re going to do tomorrow?” Christine asked me over her cup of tea, as she picked up another biscuit off the platter.

My heart climbed up into the top of my throat and my mind pushed it back down with a gulp as I tried to hide the fear that rose up out of my stomach every time I thought about the day. I’d had four months to prepare for tomorrow, but as each day passed, I felt less and less prepared.

“Honestly Chrissy, I’d already called in sick to work, so I think I’m just going to sit at home and wallow in my misery. No one else cares anymore, everyone has moved on with their lives, so why should I bother anyone?” The self-pity must have been evident, as Christine’s face dropped and her ‘sympathy eyes’, as I’d nicknamed them, appeared on her face. She placed her cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of us and leaned forward, grabbing both of my hands in her slender, manicured fingers.

“Liz, it’s not that no one cares, it’s just a different experience for you. No one else was as close to Tom as you.”

I pulled my hands away from hers with a sting of hurt in my soul: “‘Was’, Chris? Thanks a lot.” I looked away from her, tears brimming in my eyes before I could stop them. The amount of times id heard people automatically use the word was, instead of is, broke my heart every day.

“You know I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry, it was an accident, ok? Look –” Christine inched forward on her seat and placed her hand on my knee. I reluctantly looked back towards her, a tear falling down one side of my face as I blinked at her.

“There’s nothing I can say or do that will help. Look, using the word was was a slip of the tongue, you know I’m holding out as much hope as you are. It can be hard sometimes to think of him as still being here when he’s not here, that’s all.” I could see my sister was admonishing herself for the mistake. Her eyes glistened as she reminded herself of the pain I’d been in for over a hundred days. I placed my hand in her outstretched hand and gave a feeble and weak smile.

“I’ve made the mistake before too. It kills me to hear people speak of him as though he’s dead, but I just can’t accept that, not yet.” My voice was breaking, I desperately wanted to change the conversation, and Christine could sense that.

“And you shouldn’t have to, we haven’t given up yet, we know he’s out there, we just have to keep up with our search and our efforts. But you can’t let tomorrow go by without any acknowledgement love, you know how much Tom loves you, tomorrow is still a special day.” She smiled at me, my big sister who’s spent her entire life pulling me from self-pity, and loathing, and depression, who only sees gratitude and joy in her life. I sniffled and gave a half-hearted laugh. This would have been the toughest time without her to support me through this.

I took a deep breath in and tried to regain some vocal strength: “I know, but how do you celebrate your first wedding anniversary without the man you married? What am I even celebrating when I don’t even know where Tom is?”

Christine squeezed my hand; “Oh sweetie, we will find a way to cherish the day, don’t you worry about that.”

We finished our tea and biscuits, the sun setting in the window behind us. It was about five pm that Christine reminded me she had to get home to the kids and get dinner on; as wonderful as Brett was, he was definitely no chef in the kitchen.

“Do you want to come joins us for tea Lizzie? You know the girls would love to see you!” She asked me enthusiastically, and I could see she was hoping I would take her up on the offer, but I was so fatigued by this point.

“Oh no, I might give it a miss tonight, I think I just want to have a quiet night in, there’s an Uber Eats order with my name on it tonight I think!” I inflected as much enthusiasm in my voice as I could but I think it might have just come across as sarcastic. Christine could tell I was lying as soon as the words come out of my mouth, but she had enough sense to know that I was exhausted from my constant grief and worry.

“Ok honey, but just remember, you need anything, you just call me straight away. I’m going to call you in the morning to see what you want to do tomorrow ok?”

My sister smile widely, but not enough to reach her wise eyes; the smile was an attempt to make me believe that I could cope but I think we both knew that I needed a day of misery tomorrow, and nothing was going to pull me out of it. I knew she’d be getting in the car thinking she hadn’t done enough, but honestly, it felt like she had done too much over the last few months, every offer made me feel like I was a burden to her.

We embraced a long goodbye, and I waved her off as she drove away, the sun outside casting a low amber orange tone over my porch, and a slight breeze caught the back of my neck. I shivered and pulled my sleeves down to my wrists, with a final look out into the street, the same as I had done every day for what felt like an eternity, before I turned to head back inside. Nope, he’s not back today either.

My Thai dinner sat in my stomach, filling me up, as the rubbish filled the coffee table in front of me. A small lamp in the corner of the room, as well as the television, illuminated the rubbish that had compiled on my coffee table during the day. Soxy, with her long grey coat, sat licking her white paws on the lounge next to me, a soft humming vibration emanating from her body. The affairs of the day sang through the lounge room while she purred and trilled, but without Tom’s incessant joking and laughter, and his annoying open-mouthed eating, our home was quieter than it had ever been.

With a sigh, I leant forward and piled all the rubbish into the Uber Eats bag, and grabbed the crockery that Christine and I had used that afternoon. I walked out to the kitchen with full hands, piling the dishes into the sink, and the rubbish into the bin. I looked at the dishes with little motivation and walked towards the freezer: Can’t be bothered, they’ll be there tomorrow still after all.

I opened the freezer in search of some dessert snacks, and as I opened the second from the bottom drawer, my heart tried to escape up through my oesophagus for the second time that day.

For Mr. and Mrs Jarrett,

On their 1st anniversary

The handwritten label in my husband’s script caught me by surprise. That’s right, I thought with a stunned shock, we’re supposed to eat that together tomorrow.

I pulled the cake out of the draw with shaky hands, and sat down at the dining room table with it. I didn’t care that id left the freezer door open, or that I knocked some papers off the table to place it in front of me. I was being forced to face the truth with this cake here in front of me.

Tom’s mother had told us to order a cake with two tiers, traditionally, the bride and groom eat the top tier on their first wedding anniversary together. I’d thought it was a bit over the top, I’d only wanted a simple ceremony, with a small get together afterwards, but Tom was keen to commemorate every part of the wedding and the marriage, and the anniversary, everything, because he thought building memories was part of the joy of living a fulfilling life. So, we saved the top layer of our wedding cake, decadent chocolate, and he had wrapped it up eagerly and popped it into the freezer with the label. I had asked why he felt the need to write a label on a piece of cake that we knew was ours, and he said it would be like unwrapping a present for ourselves on our anniversary, with a big grin. I’d shaken my head and let him do as he pleased, without a second thought.

Now the label on the cake was taunting me, it felt like this tiny label was teasing me for being a Mrs Jarrett without a Mr Jarrett by my side. It felt like a knife in my stomach. I don’t know how long I sat there, the cake and I illuminated by the light of the freezer. Eventually I picked it up and walked back towards the freezer, when I decided that I would eat it tomorrow. I placed it in the fridge to defrost.

Christine was right, Tom loved me, and tomorrow was a day worth celebrating, even if he wasn’t here, and I didn’t know where he was. Or even, let’s be honest, if he was still alive. Eating a slice of our wedding cake would be how I’d cherish our day tomorrow, even if I was doing it by myself.

I felt warm in my bed, and I could tell the sun was poking through the blinds, telling me it was a new day. I felt the dread of the day wearing me down before I knew what it was, the grief and the disbelief were my constant companions, and they were forever pulling my depression to the surface, threatening to drown me. I was awake, but I wasn’t ready to open my eyes. Opening my eyes made it feel too real, that my first wedding anniversary was here, but my husband had disappeared months prior. How is this my life now? It was a thought that invaded my soul daily. I was constantly waiting for something to change, whether or not Tom would appear on the front porch, or I would just ‘get over it’, or the police would arrive saying they’d found his body, I just needed some closure.

With a sigh, I pulled myself out of bed, and left Soxy in Tom’s spot, she had quickly adopted his place in the bed when she realised he wasn’t coming home anymore. It was bittersweet; she knew I needed the comfort, but she was there because she knew Tom wasn’t. Every day it hurt me to see her in that spot.

Without any enthusiasm for the day, I slipped on slippers, and dressed in my dressing gown over the top of my pajamas. I skulked out to the kitchen and started making a coffee. Dishes were everywhere still, but I found a clean coffee cup and a clean spoon, so that’s all I needed. As I pulled out the milk, I was reminded of the cake, and so pulled that out with the other hand.

I felt numb.

I felt so alone and so lost.

A first anniversary, a lonely wife, and a missing husband. And a slice of chocolate wedding cake for one.

I sat at the dining table, with my coffee next to the cake as I slowly unwrapped it. I didn’t feel the tears streaming down my face, and I didn’t notice my hands shaking as they worked at the wrapping. I stared at the cake, thinking only of my lost husband. Decadent chocolate, his favourite.