I wrote about Mike’s orange hat in June. As the first anniversary of his death approaches, here’s an update on its whereabouts now.

Many of you have suggested that he’s always with me. I know that’s true, and I’ve made sure of it, symbolically. Every time I hit the road, he’s with me. 

Well, his hat is, anyway.

A month ago, I thought I was handling this grief thing pretty well. I know there aren’t any rules. Anything goes. Everything’s right.

This month has been tough. Rough. Hard. 

I know he’s gone. 

But I want him – not just his hat.

Mike would have been 39 years sober as I write this. We celebrated with his cousins last year, but I don’t recall that he ate cake. He wasn’t eating much of anything by then.

His sobriety birthday was more important to him than his real birthday, or our wedding anniversary. He wouldn’t have had a life had he not stopped drinking. That’s true for most of us who have struggled with alcohol. 

He often said I wouldn’t have wanted to know him as a drinker. I’m grateful we met when we did … and that we spent 30 sober years together.

The first trip Mike and I took together was to Las Vegas. He’d often gone there; I never had, and wanted it to be special. I borrowed a cocktail dress; we went to fancy restaurants. We saw George Carlin!

I was glad he was willing to see it with new eyes. 

And, truly, that’s just about the only way to see Las Vegas. We suspended our usual definition of ‘beautiful,’ and embraced the tacky neon lights and party atmosphere.

The last time we went there was in 2006 – to be married, on August 5. Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I miss you.