One Year of 543! Day 365.

Today marks one year of my 543-day writing journey for Roger. One year! Click HERE to read all about it.

The irony is that Roger, one to always dodge the most flattering limelight, would not love this idea. “You’re being silly,” he’d say. “Let’s just grill and swim.”

I remember when I wanted to make him a wall with all of his rewards and promotions from the military and fire service.

“Let me make you a love-me wall,” I’ve said to him repeatedly.

“No, I don’t need a wall,” he said, almost annoyed. His many accolades continued to rest in their paper and wooden forms in the hunter green plastic bin in his little closet.

(When I wanted to display his coach’s award, the little league baseball with the tiny blue signatures all over it, he smiled and nodded.)

He deserves the notice and the gentle nudge to others about him, especially in this dynamic form, one with daily life and movement. Although each post is not about him, it still reminds people about his existence, even strangers in other countries. Always remember and never forget, right?

As the years pass like a Peregrine falcon in a cool, linear breeze, and mundane living returns for the rest of the country and world, shadows still remain for us, at times as if from an aging, wispy willow, and others just as black as a basement closet. It’s part of us, who we are, and what we stand for, and although that can become tiresome, we have embraced the pride that comes with being a Gold Star family, ones who’ve lost while the world watched.

Much of what I write is about our present living and thriving while we remain in our forward ever, and it may one day serve as a sweet little collection of recipes, stories about their dad, quiet celebrations of our accomplishments like college, a new business, careers, and also there’s some poetry and venting of frustration that will make us one day say, “Oh yea, I remember when we moved to another state,” “I miss that chicken,” or “That haiku is weird, Mom.”

This project has forced me to write. Yes, forced. In all transparency, I do need a goal, an audience, a reason. I’ve never been one to journal for myself only. It’s like wearing lip gloss to bed.

Something really cool that’s come out of this experience is the readers. There are people in so many different countries who read about Roger and our family’s quirks. His name is known to some people solely because of this blog, this project, and he deserves it. For that, I thank you for reading, and remembering, and also for cheering us on. We’re over half-way to 543 days of writing, but I don’t think I’ll ever be done illuminating the immortalization my sweet husband. He’s gone, but so not forgotten.