[ 12.19.18.04.01 ]
...Bridge to Terabithia. After she died in the book. I put the book down and never finished it. Several times in years gone bye, I would pick it up and hold it. But not once did I open it.
Vika's birthday was yesterday. The iPhone has saved our last SMS exchanges. I smiled with sorrow as I read our past exchanges. Then I clicked the calendar. To delete or not delete was the question. I knew from past experience if I clicked delete it would ask for this event or all future events of this occasion. Every year for the last three we had gotten together to celebrate this instance of her spontaneous introduction into reality. Yalta, Prague and even Russia proper.
How long am I going to let this haunt me?
How long will I feel that deleting her birthday from my calendar would give me grief?
Her photos are still in my facebook and our recent adventures in Prague on my laptop and Apple TV. The photos from Russia are the majority on my iPad.
In an odd twist of fate, I am once again working at the Evil Empire in the same building as my first stint there. Yesterday I stopped and lingered in the stairwell in building 43 where we had our first call. She had called me on my 33rd birthday to sing, "Happy Birthday Mr. President"! because she didn't know the words to "Happy Birthday". Afterwards daily calls became almost a regular thing. I would call her up every evening which was her morning in Russia. I would instruct her on what outfits to wear to work and for work. I even made up a silly diddy which I would sing as her wakeup song. "Vika of the Blue sockie" was the gist of it. Inspired by one morning when she wanted to wear her blue socks but could only find one of them.
Moments with her litter my hand written journal. We were definitely each others nemesis and perfect compliment in all the wrong ways. She was my bad penny and I was the American she would have gladly killed but never did in order to avoid an international incident. We argued like an old married couple and when we played, well, this is a public journal so I'll let that one slide.
I honestly thought the day we discussed would come about. Married in some dive in Vegas and afterwards staring down the barrel of a 9mm in the parking lot outside. We had the long time understanding that she had to tell me she loved me and mean it before she pulled the trigger.
I closed the calendar. I am not ready for that level of goodbye. Yet. . .