Sundays were our days. Sunday afternoons, he dropped a few berries, usually raspberries (his favorite berry) into the bottom of two champaign flutes. We snuck off to have bubbles on the deck, lately sparkling rose but in the early days it was cava. It somehow made the weekend complete, and the idea of having to be at a place at a time the next day a little farther off. It made the weekend last longer, our time together a celebration of what has been, what was to come, and what was happening in the now.

Last Sunday was really hard. Spring has sprung, and the light has begun to change. I could see it after the rains lifted last week. The sun on the fig leaves outside my kitchen window just broke me open to the knowing that the season had shifted without him here.

William has been relentless with the warmer days. He needed to swim. With a little help from the propane heater, it was just warm enough to get in the pool for three of my children. I was struggling to break the seal on the swimming season without Edmond. I was tearful, and did it anyway. I did not pour bubbles, not yet. I can decide when that season comes, a small agency in the world. I did have some sauvignon blanc in a metal cup, sans berries. My tears came and went, but eventually my children pulled me into their water-world where they feel the most free.

As I sat in a chair on the large shallow beach area of the pool, my feet in the water, a ladybug landed on my hand. It found its way to my wedding ring. Perhaps its sparkle in the sun called him there.

I traded out my wedding band for his the day after he died, but I still have the diamond he gave me when he asked me to marry him for the second time. It was one of those re-ups on the relationship when we suddenly understood each other and life better, and knew we needed to up our game for ourselves and each other. We were having coffee in bed, our morning ritual. It was my birthday. He came around to my side of the bed and got down on his knee. He opened the box, and asked if I would marry him, again. Yes, again and again and again. It was a turning point for us, and the space between us became both smaller and expansive at the same time. Love began to win in the moments that could have become arguments that might have separated us for hours or days.

The ladybug stayed there on the diamond for a long time, lifting his wings and dancing in place. It crawled over my arms, and we spent nearly half an hour together. My youngest marveled with me for some of our time with this tiny beautiful creature. Bug behavior is intriguing to both of us. Time in the sun in the micro-world of an insect was a deeper level of presence that helped shift my energy, opening me to the time and place I was in at this juncture. The present is the only moment we have.

Some say ladybugs are good luck. I am not feeling too lucky right now, although I do feel grateful for all the love and support surrounding us during this time. Ladybugs also represent courage and strength. I will sit with that. I mostly feel desperate. Perhaps desperation is the prequel to courage.

Monday came, and the world went on without him, again.

Edmond is everywhere and nowhere. He was my belonging and helped me learn to truly love myself opening me up to receive the enormous love he had for me. It took a lot of work to find ourselves in that sweet spot, and now I can’t believe I won’t touch him or feel his firm and gentle hand in mine or hear him, or smell him.

When the world feels too big and fast, I pray I will be lucky enough to meet another ladybug.

Sunday Bubbles