Happy Anniversary, Love! (#1428)

Topics/tags: Michelle

Dear Michelle,

Happy Anniversary! Today would have been our 39th, if you were still alive. Our 39th on the 29th is a fun numeric combination! I had wanted to make it to at least 50 anniversaries. We only made it to 37. Still, 37 years is a lot! I’m glad we had so much time together.

I wonder what we’d be doing if you were still alive. I guess it would depend on whether or not we were both still working. When you first got sick, you suggested we both plan to retire soon so we could spend time together. But before that? You’d joined a C-Suite organization for women and were looking to move in new directions. So who knows?

Would you have remembered that today was our anniversary? Probably. But I still find it funny that for the first decade or more of our lives together, I remembered our anniversary better than you did. So much for traditional gender roles. I sometimes swapped the 9 and the 7 between the year and the day, but rarely. You got by with the end of August.

What about today? In the real world, I spent a lot of today (and some of yesterday) thinking about what I’d write to you. Whenever I did, I cried. Now? I’m sobbing. But in my imaginary world, in which you’re still alive, we’d spend the weekend celebrating together.

Ideally, I would have planned the agenda. I know you always felt the love when I planned things, even if I’d usually screw something up. But planning for us as a couple was clearly your love language, or the love language you liked to receive. So, here goes.

Yesterday, we would have joined friends in Des Moines for dinner and a concert at Hoyt Sherman. We’d have eaten at that fancy restaurant in a house a few blocks from Hoyt Sherman. Blackberry Smoke played at Hoyt Sherman last night, so that’s who we would have seen. While they’re not a band we listened to, you would have enjoyed the show.

After that, we would have headed to Hotel Patee (if it’s still like it used to be) to spend the night or weekend. Perhaps we would have bowled in their ancient basement alley. Perhaps we would have sat in the sauna. I forget whether or not they had a hot tub. This morning, we would have gotten a couples’ massage. I don’t love massages, but you did, and you liked getting them together. I’d probably forget to plan lunch, so we’d improvise. Or maybe I’d plan to improvise. I’m not sure. In the afternoon, we’d go to the botanical gardens and then maybe catch a movie. In the late afternoon, we’d head back toward Hoyt Sherman to visit our friends next door. I haven’t seen them nearly enough since you passed. Maybe we would have done dinner with them.

Saturday night (that is, tonight), we would probably have headed home. You didn’t like to be away from home for too long. And I would have been chomping at the bit to get ready for Monday’s class. You didn’t particularly appreciate my compulsion to work at all hours, but you understood.

Or maybe we would have tried to get home to listen to Danika and the Jeb, since we had a lot of remote dates where we listened to them with you in Audubon and me in Grinnell. Did you know that they’ve built a new live music platform named I love this song?

When together, we’d reminisce about the past and consider the future. We’d share how proud we are of the three amazing young men we’ve raised. We’d talk about how we might push them in certain directions. Well, we’d consider how you might encourage them to go in certain directions; they were always more likely to listen to you. We’d also plan for the future. That was one of the things we always tried to do on our anniversaries.

Now? Now we have no future.

If I were a better husband, perhaps I’d have spent some of today making plans with the boys. But their lives are currently in transition; they don’t need to make the same kinds of plans we would have made. My plans also depend a bit on where they end up.

On Sunday, we’d do church together and then breakfast at Frontier. If any of the boys were around, they’d join us. After that, I’d do work, and you’d sit near me watching TV or reading a book. Time nearby meant a lot.

What else? We might have shared anniversary cards. We might have given each other anniversary gifts. However, we never really cared about such things. What was most important was the time together. I hope I gave you that today by thinking about you, planning what we might have done, and writing to you.

I love you! Happy 39th Anniversary! Only one more year until 40.

Love,

– SamR

Version 1.0 released 2026-08-29.

Version 1.1 of 2026-08-29.