Highlight of my week: When Mark came home, he brought me a big assortment of really pretty flowers, with a hand written note. He also brought a long stem, chocolate rose for me. I feel really blessed to have a man in my life who loves and respects me. I know it's kinda cliche to do the whole jewellry and flowers thing (my birthday he bought me a necklace, christmas was the engagement ring, anniversary was the flowers), but I know that he takes a lot of time and consideration into anything he gets for me, I just wish he would stop worrying about whether I will like it or not. He proposed and then spent fifteen minutes apologizing because he thought he had done it badly. I had to actually tell him to shut up so I could kiss him and give him my answer. I won't lie and say that my fiance and I are participating in a non-physical relationship-- as implied before, he lives with me-- so having someone who is always willing to respect and share boundaries is huge. We could happily live together for a long time, but he understands and respects that I don't want a common law relationship. I do not want to "play house". I can also feel confident, however, that he did not propose just to make me happy but because he really does want us to commit our lives to each other and to the family we will have. The only thing that drives me crazy is that periodically he now says things like "we're married!" or "my wifey" and I need to remind him that while we have emotionally commited ourselves to each other in that regard, we have not actually legalized it yet, which is important because its a public declaration, as well as what will eventually make us next of kin. I know that sounds silly and for many years I didn't feel any need for, or belief in, a legal marriage but I have seen first hand how signing that little piece of paper can save marriages, because it makes it that much harder to throw in the towel. It also gives me greater peace of mind, since I intend to periodically travel and because if we are ever injured or hospitalized, etc, it will give us rights to be notified.
Low point of the week: My great uncle Wayne died from cancer. Since my mom died in October, I have attended two visitations, and should have gone to the visitation for another friends father but I was out of town. I hate funerals, and was very glad that my aunt and uncle chose not to stay as I am uncomfortable in those situations. I missed the last reunion anad the family christmas, so I have not seen him for probably two years or so, and he was not one of the uncles that I was closer with, despite living fairly close to him. Still, I know he took the time at the christmas to take my dad and my sister aside and say his fairwells to them. The same day he died, he called his wife and told her that he was okay and would be home soon. At the visitation, I was okay until I went to say hi and hug one of my papa's other brothers (originally there were 8 or 9 boys, and my aunt Roberta) but got side tracked looking at the photos and it was just too much. Guilt washed over me, knowing that I had never really gotten an opportunity to get to know my uncle Wayne and that I had missed my chance to say good-bye. My uncle Terry, the brother most physically similar to my Papa and probably the one I know the best, just hugged me and let me cry. Sometimes I feel like such a baby. On my Uncle Wayne's memorial card was a poem by Emily Dickinson, that I absolutely love and have said for several years that I wanted to be my life mission.
I think I will close this post with another poem by her, a good reminder of what is important in life and how much I should be thankful for!
| I HAD no time to hate, because | |
| The grave would hinder me, | |
| And life was not so ample I | |
| Could finish enmity. | |
| Nor had I time to love; but since | 5 |
| Some industry must be, | |
| The little toil of love, I thought, | |
| Was large enough for me. |
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