June 22, 2025: It’s an important date, but I almost forgot why
If not for Facebook, I would have forgotten my anniversary.
I opened my phone first thing Sunday morning to find a greeting from a friend who writes us every June 22. “Happy anniversary! Hugs to both of you!” I hadn’t given it a thought!
This isn’t like me. I’m sentimental and nostalgic. My love language is gift giving. I think about the the gold hoops and chains, long necklaces and tiny earrings, tops and skirts and scarves I’ve given to Evelyn over 52 years of marriage—and many of those on our anniversary. Actually, although we’ve been married 52 years, the gift purchases stopped some time ago. Now I’ve given away most of her jewelry and clothes, much of it to people she loved. Most of the time I’m happy about that.
These days we bring her newspapers she studies for hours on end. Twice last week I washed newsprint off her fingers so I’d feel good about handing her that day’s gift: homemade cookies baked by a friend.
Deciding to celebrate
I decided to “celebrate” this year as I did last. We looked at wedding pictures from a small album I had included in the stuff I packed for her room when she first moved in. It’s like showing them to a little child who’s not sure what you’re talking about: interest, but little recognition.
June 22, 1973. June 24, 2025. I appreciate the smile more today than I did then.
She does respond to us. As I’ve mentioned before, we treasure and repeat her whole sentences or wry replies.
A friend reported that Evelyn was able to listen to a concert by guest musicians. “Is it over?” she asked when they finished.
“Yes, it’s over.”
“Well, they were really good!”
One evening Evelyn was holding onto a grab bar—different from the one they usually use with her in the restroom. “I think this one’s better,” Evelyn said, and smiled and raised her eyebrows.
Moving on
Sunday evening another friend discovered our anniversary date in the Facebook notifications. “Happy anniversary,” he wrote me. “I know it has to be difficult, but you have so many happy memories over the years.”
He’s right, of course, although happy memories can sometimes contribute to the sinking feelings of loss. But not this year. Maybe it’s a measure of progress that I can remember without weeping, observe the day without making much of it, and be satisfied with giving Evelyn a peck on the cheek and telling her I love her when I leave my visit. This happened Sunday evening as it has most evenings in the last 14-plus months.
I’m moving forward, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still sentimental. I find myself wondering what we might do and say on June 22, 2026. Maybe it won’t be much, but I can’t consider ignoring the day altogether.
Thanks to Facebook friends, that probably won’t happen!