Making Memories. . .

Well, it’s day 2 of the month long of the Brave, Bold, Blogger Challenge (BBBC) 2017 hosted by Kathy of ToadMama.com. Today topic is “A special memory from 2016”. As I reviewed in my mind all of the events that has happened last year, how can I justified one event is more special than the others? Every events that has occurred is special in its own way. All of these memories span from Mark and I going on double dates once a month with my best friend, Janet and her husband, to both of us buying a new motorcycle and traveling to various motorcycle events.

The more I think back to all of the things we have done in the past year, it reminds me of a previous blog I wrote about which is called “The Year of the Firsts” back in December of 2014. It was all about dealing with emotions and experiencing life without Russ. It has been a little over a year since I have been back from my six months solo motorcycle trip.

As soon I came back, I began a new year of first by living with my partner, Mark. This has been an exciting and challenging new experiences for the both of us. As we make new memories and experiences together, we have learned over the year that Russ will always part of it. In the beginning, I tried to keep it separate but as time went on, it became emotionally harder to do. I started to become feeling guilty for loving two guys at the same time. Mark realized that I was struggling emotionally and reminded me that he is not here to replace Russ nor make me forget all about him. He is here to love me as who I am and nothing less. So now we are learning how to share those memories with my late husband, Russ. I know that it may sound weird to you but it works for us.

With that having been said, the most special memory from 2016 is when Mark proposed to me under a train trestle on horseback, a year to the date I came back from trip. Of course, I said YES! Immediately afterward, we went to the cemetery to tell Russ all about it.

Here to making many more memories. . .

11 thoughts on “Making Memories. . .

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