Can you say "Insensitive?"

My husband and I have been married for 9½ years. (That's a record for me!) I have known him for close to 15 years. He is the light of my life, and I would be completely lost without him. He truly is my better half.

There are many things I am good at. I'm not trying to sound conceited . . . believe me, that is not me at all. Everyone has talents; everyone has things about them that they excel at. On the other hand, everyone has short comings as well. I have many, but the one that gets me the most is my insensitivity.

I'm not someone who is socially inept in her insensitivity. i.e. I'm not going to tell a 300lb. woman in a horizontal striped dress that she looks like a zebra with a thyroid problem! My insensitivity is on a far more intimate level. Again, let me clarify . . . I'm not talking about sex.

There are important details about all the lives of people we care about that should be remembered. The most obvious of those details being birthdays, anniversaries, where you went on your honeymoon, etc . . . If it's a happy memory, I'm usually right on target with those sorts of things. If it's a more somber occasion, my mind seems to shut it out right after the event. It's not because I don't care . . . that's not it at all. I guess it's just my way of coping with things.

I am a VERY emotional person. (My brother likes to use that observation against me in an argument. How can that be used against me? It's called being passionate about the issue. But I digress!)

I am the woman who cries in the room with you just because you are crying. The audible gasp in a room full of children when they hear their teacher's husband has died renders me a sobbing mess. I don't even know the teacher or her husband, but I am sad that the children are sad. I'm not sure why I'm trying to convince you about my sensitivity. I guess it's to try to assure you that I am not a heartless bitch. Maybe I'm trying to assure myself I'm not a heartless bitch. I do, however, have sad memory amnesia.

Today is the 7 year anniversary of my Father-in-Laws (these two adjectives can't even begin to describe . . . ) unexpected and sudden death. I COMPLETELY forgot.

I can recount to you every second of that night we got the call. I can tell you what was happening hours before hand (Corey's 1st birthday party), I can tell you what we were doing the exact minute we got the call; who we were with; how we handled the situation. I can tell you every phone call made that night. I can vividly describe to you the primal scream unleashed by every member of the family in the room that night who heard the doctor say those horrible words, "We did everything we could, but I'm sorry, he didn't make it."

Remembering the event is not the issue. Forgetting to commemorate it is where my insensitivity resides. A card; a hug; a special dinner. Anything. It's not difficult. Hell, it's not even too much to ask.

Darrell, I am so sorry. I love you so much. I would be lost without you. I know how close you were to your father. I know how much you miss him.

Don was great man. He was an excellent father. He was an excellent Pa-Pa. He was a tremendous Father-in-Law. The Redskins thing . . . I'll let that go. :-)

I miss him, too.

Don, I know you are up in heaven looking down on us, and I hope you are proud of all you accomplished. Your legacy lives through your children and grandchildren. Darrell is the best father any child could hope to have and husband any woman would dream to have.

You are missed.

You are loved.

And while the memories of that tragic day are stored in the murky part of my brain,

You are not forgotten.