I've been riding to my friend's work (and then back home alone) on Wednesdays. I couldn't go with her last week because I had my annual skin checkup very early in the morning.
This break in my new routine enabled me to shoot the sunrise. And, oh, was it was a beauty. Many memories, however. I went to one of the places Lizard and I used to visit for sunrise, often by bike prior to Parkinson's. I remembered with tears the last five or six times we'd visited this particular locale, when he no longer had the energy to walk with me the short distance from the parking lot to the shore. I tried very hard to be grateful he is whole now and can walk as far and as long as he wants. I wondered if he is setting speed records in heaven...
I saw my first sundog in ages as I was leaving for my appointment. I wondered if Lizard was sending me another rainbow. He used to sign his emails Beam Boss because he knew how much I love rainbows.
I had a complete meltdown as I pulled into the dermatology parking lot. It was the first time I'd been there alone since Lizard's horrific rash in 2024, and memories of that visit hurt more than words can describe.
I read scriptures on my phone for a few minutes so I wouldn't be a basketcase in the dermatologist's office. When I checked in, I was informed my checkup isn't until December.
I had shown up for Lizard's checkup. I had cancelled all his medical appointments, but I had forgotten to remove them from my phone. We saw the same dermatologist. I really had no idea the appointment wasn't mine. The receptionist was awesome. She kept apologizing as she handed me tissue after tissue. And she wasn't the one who'd made the mistake. It was all on me.
I sat in the car in the parking lot for more than an hour, crying, reading scriptures and, once again, really mourning.
The sun hitting the car finally got me moving. I probably could have sat there reading scriptures all day. It helped.
I realized my December appointment probably won't be as difficult now because I already survived this accidental visit. Kind of like everything else I feel these days. I still cry a lot. But nothing is as hard as Lizard's final week. Nothing is as hard as the first several weeks without him here. I'm able to tell myself now: I've made it through the hardest part. WE made it through the hardest part. Our love for each other stayed strong all the way until the end. It will never be that hard again. There will be sadness. There will be tears. But the hardest part is done. If I can make it through that, I can make it through anything.
