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Nostalgia for a beautiful day

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Twenty six years ago, on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, Kevin and I tied the knot. I'm replaying that weekend in my head this morning. I'm thinking about what a magical weekend it was and all of the people who made it such a beautiful event. We had decided to get married in my home town, Mandan, which was quite the trek for the majority of our guests. But they came. They came from all over and we loved each of them for it.  That day started with rain. I came downstairs to the kitchen early in the morning at my parent's house and asked my farmer dad, "Are we going to have to move the wedding to the church? Is this rain going to stick around?" He had been looking at the Farmer's Almanac and studying the skies. He answered confidently,  "No. It's going to clear and be a beautiful day." He nailed it. It WAS the perfect day.  When I think about that day in May of 2000, I think of my parents, who willingly held the event in their backyard. I did...
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365 Days

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                                                          We did it. June 4th marked 365 days after we said goodbye to Kevin. It was a bittersweet day with the memories still so fresh and raw and yet it felt really good to make it to that milestone. I got ready to go to work that morning with 3 days of school left in the school year all the while my brain repeating, "I did it. I did it. I did it." I survived a year without him. We got through every holiday, every birthday, every new first, every event, all of the lasts, I paid the bills each month, figured out social security, moved things to my name, kept the house, fixed the cars, made difficulty financial decisions, did the taxes, and all while working full time as an elementary teacher, raising four kids and grieving. I did it. I did it. And the beautiful truth is, I did not do it alone. No...
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Still moving forward, still grieving

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  We live a beautiful life in our sweet community surrounded by loving, caring people who shower us with love and support. AND every day is hard. Everything is hard. There is not a minute that goes by that I'm not thinking about Kevin.  He is everywhere. He is downstairs, when I wake up late on a Saturday, he's got coffee made, ESPN on the TV, puttering around the kitchen making some random new recipe, like an apple skillet bake for a big breakfast for the family. He is beside me walking the halls of the middle school in his plaid shirt, khaki pants, worn out leather shoes and his work badge still hanging from his pocket as I go from classroom to classroom for parent teacher conferences. He is at the all district band concert. He is at Solvei's last Christmas at Luther concert. He is at every family gathering at my parent's house and at his sister's house and all other places where family is. He's placed himself between the boys in church so they don't get g...
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