The Approval Process

The Approval Process

When you met my first, you kicked him out of your den within two minutes. When I came in to see what was wrong you said, "He doesn't fish, hunt, or golf. What the hell am I supposed to talk to him about?" You always wanted someone different for me than the Miami and NYC boys I was bringing home.

The last time I saw you, years later in that same den, you asked me if there was someone special in my life. For the first time ever, I lied to you. I said "no." I knew you would disapprove of him, and I felt so guilty for lying to you. 

When I heard you died, I broke up with him. I could not stand being with someone that you did not want for me. The day after your funeral, I was offered a job forty minutes from where you lived. I transplanted my entire life from NYC to Wisconsin, knowing this must be a sign from you.

I've been here for a bit now, falling back into a life surrounded by family. Last weekend, I was homesick for you. I met someone here, not long after you moved me back. I wanted you to meet him. So, we drove up with Mama to the place that we spread your ashes in the Escanaba River.

Feet of snow covered the path that led to the river where we left you with Grandma. He held me close as we made our way through the deep snow drifts. When we got as far as we could go, I nuzzled my head into his chest as we looked out at the frozen river, pine trees and geese that were still trying to find any last bits of open water. Mama joined us and we said a prayer for you.

Then they both looked at me as only two people who love me can, knowing that I needed alone time with you. They each gave me a hug and then made their way back through the drifts of snow to the truck as I stayed with you. 

I closed my eyes, and felt the brisk winter winds on my vulnerable face and felt your presence all around me. As I searched the river for answers, approval, a glimpse of my next move, I realized that you never had to meet him, because you're the one that led him to me. You were the one that brought me here, home. I didn't need to search anymore. 

The 18

The 18

The Miss

The Miss