This August 8th marked the 1 year anniversary of my liver transplant and what should have been John's first birthday. It was a solemn celebration.
Before his death, we had been planning a really over-the-top party for John with a Snoopy theme. We were going to invade my in law's house with balloons and streamers galore. I had planned to make a cake shaped like Snoopy sleeping on top of his famous red dog house. I had expected my in law's house would be trashed from all the wrapping paper, plates, plastic cups and the general aftermath of destruction that is left behind from a mass of kids.
Instead, Ray and I spent the morning visiting John's grave. Since cake and candles are not allowed, we decorated John's tombstone with deep blue and purple hydrangeas. We also placed a bouquet of flowers at the grave for both John and uncle Frank. Ray laid a blanket down next to the grave and we sat there, mostly in silence, both thinking of how much our lives have changed in these past 12 months.
All too soon, it was time for us to go. Neither of us wanted to leave, but we needed to. I wanted to still find some reason to be happy about this day. Before we left, I realized I had been holding back tears and that moment they all came flooding out. Ray held me tight and told me, "I'm so proud of you, honey. I know how hard this has been for me and I just cannot believe how strong you have been through all this." We said our goodbyes to John and walked back to the car.
We left San Francisco and headed to Monterey. Ray drove the coast down to Monterey. It was a lovely drive, especially when we drove through the small art towns and local wineries.
We went to the Fisherman's Wharf in Monterey and walked the beach. We found a nice little spot to sit and watch the families enjoying the exceptionally warm day. There was a group of teenagers playing beach ball as kids played a game of trying to out run the incoming waves. And slowly a crowd gathered to watch a very nosy seal that was floating along the edge of the coast doing his own 'people watching'. Ray and I talked about everything and anything.
I laughed to myself as I though about how wonderfully non-eventful this day was. In light of the events that occurred this time last year, one could actually consider this day to be, well, boring. 'Boring', that's a word that actually has some measure of pleasure to me. Standing in my shoes, 'boring' seems like something very exotic and forbidden. Funny how some words can take on a whole new meaning in your life.
When it felt like a good time to leave, we returned home and putted around the house a bit. I couldn't make up my mind where I wanted to go for dinner. I really didn't want to make any decisions, but like two school kids playing freeze tag, Ray already tagged me as 'it' so I had to come up with something. I finally decided upon Black Angus.
We changed into more suitable clothes for a nice dinner out and headed out the door. Ray was very talkative in the car. He seemed to have gained his second wind and we both became extremely engaged in our conversations. I was so distracted that I failed to realize that we had not been going in the direction of Black Angus. It wasn't until we pulled into the parking lot that I realized where we were. Ray had borough me to Alexander's Steakhouse. A very popular steakhouse in San Jose, made even more famous by the fact that the chef had once participated in the Food Network's Iron Chef. Ray and I had only been here once before- for our wedding anniversary.
The food was again, exceptionally wonderful. The highest grade cuts of beef, artistically prepared, being enjoyed in a seductively posh setting. And I got a bottle of one of my favorite drinks- french berry lemonade. At the end of our meal, our waiter brought out a long dish that had the words 'Happy Anniversary', scrolled across in chocolate. And in the corner of the plate was a small slice of chocolate cake covered with a hard chocolate shell and topped with fresh whipped cream and a raspberry. In the center of the whipped cream topping was a small lite candle. Ray told me to make a wish and blow out the candle. First I said a quick prayer of thanks and then I made my wish.
After dinner, we went to the movie theatre next door and saw Julie & Julia. It felt good to laugh.
This was a sweet ending to a wonderful day. It wasn't the fanfare I had once hoped would mark this day. But is was a much needed honoring of a day worthy of being remembered.
Thank you, honey.
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