Twenty-two

November 1, 2005.
Over two years.
We had a daughter at home.
We had "babies" at home.

I was healing.
The world was spinning.
And we were happy.
We were healing.

And yet, I still missed him.
I continued to go to support group meetings each month.
More as the supporter- than the supported-
More to say his name-
To remember him-
To make it matter-

I had a fear I may forget- may stop going each month- stop speaking his name as I had-
But it had only been two years.
Would things change in time?

I didn't want to forget him.
Not ever.
I was smiling again and I was afraid the world would forget him.
I didn't want them to forget him.
Not ever.

So I went to the meetings-
I spoke our story-
And on November 1, 2005
Others heard our story too-
His story-
Because it was featured in a newspaper.

I read our story-
Our words-
Saw pictures of my hands-
holding his hat, his footprints, his things-
And for a moment- He was remembered-

Remembered beyond us- beyond the safety of the walls where my beloved meetings took place.
He was remembered still- but now by people we hadn't ever met-
They saw his name-

I was teaching at the time.
The school day had ended and I was erasing the chalkboard.
When I noticed a woman was standing at my door.
She held something in her hand. She had a warm smile and asked if she could have a moment.

I welcomed her in.
She said that she had children who had attended the school years ago.
Before my time.
She was very nice.

And that's when she pulled out a frame.
A large frame with four footprints.
Her eyes glazed as they met mine.
She told me it hangs in her home still.

Under each footprint was a name.
She pointed to one and said, "That one would be twenty-two." I heard her voice break. "She would have been twenty-two. You won't forget."
I stared at the footprints.
The name.
Her name.
Given twenty-two years ago.
Taken home twenty-two years ago.
Remembered.
Twenty-two.
And I remember her still.

I'll remember him still.
Remember him.
Share him.
Andrew.