Anniversary

Today is a special day. I waited a long time to write about this because it is such a personal story. As I begin to write this an old quote comes to mind: "For those who believe, no explanation is necessary; for those who do not believe, no explanation will suffice."

Sooner or later we all lose someone important to us. But when we lose the most important person in our lives, it shakes us to our core, and life goes on only because it must. That is what happened to me when my wife died. Wait...this is an inspirational story! For me it confirms that there is no "death." Life not only goes on here, but it goes on there as well..no matter what your concept of "there" is.

My late wife, Adrianne Blue Wakefield-St. George, used to say that the happiest day of her life was the day we got married. We planned everything around the number 3. It was our lucky number. We were married on the third month, (March). The first day of spring, which fell on the 21st (in numerology: 2+1= 3), in '75 (7+5=12, again "3" in numerology). The hour of our marriage was 3:00 o'clock. We were married in the 9th garden of the Bahai Temple in Wilmette, Illinois. (9 is the ultimate of 3) And in my shoe was a "lucky sixpence" with a date chosen to add to a "3."

It was a joyous marriage. We shared a charmed life of creativity and partnership in every way. We spent 31 years, 3 months, and 10 days melding together. Life was beautiful, fulfilling, evolutionary. An ending was unthinkable. We slowly created our castle, celebrated anniversaries, birthdays, and Christmases. Every year, on our wedding anniversary, at exactly 3 o'clock, we would light a candle for each year of our marriage and re-state our vows. We even had a special anniversary clock that was permanently set at 3, and whenever one of the many clocks we collected "died," instead of getting it fixed, we would turn the hands to the 3 o'clock position as a permanent memorial to our wedding. The years rolled by as we lived and worked in our fairy tale home completely oblivious to the fact that our marriage clock was running out.

We all have our blind spots. We chose not to dwell on the fact that Adrianne's health was failing. We adjusted the level of her physical activities to what was possible for her, and I picked up the slack. We were always most comfortable living in a world of fantasy of our own making. In fact, on our home's main staircase we installed a cartouche flanked by cherubs inscribed: "Reality is for Those Who Lack Imagination." When Adrianne passed of congestive heart failure on June 1, 2006 at 6 PM, I was in complete shock. Our life together had ended. It was a gradual process towards a new life, which continues to this day.

But now to the real point of this story. Slightly more than one year after Adrianne passed it was the 35th anniversary of the company I started as a 19 year-old: Facemakers, Inc. Adrianne and I had always celebrated major Facemakers anniversaries with some kind of party for the employees. So I invited the employees, their families, and some of our friends (about 90 people) to a celebration at the company's building. Nancy, my company's general manager, suggested, "We have a couple of Titanic clocks left. Why don't we hang one up in St. George's Hall for Facemakers anniversary." I agreed. She took a new one out of its box and installed fresh batteries. Most of the party was held on the third floor in our own theatre that Adrianne and I had created many years earlier. The festivities even included a famous magician flown in from Las Vegas. It was a joyous occasion and enjoyed by all.

The following day, Nancy discovered that the Titanic clock had stopped. Annoying since it was 'fresh out of the box' and had new batteries installed. Note-to-self: "Have clocks made in the USA in future." But wait. Look at the hour. I have that clock hanging in my personal 3rd floor suite at Havencrest Castle. It bears this little note attached to it:

"This clock stopped at exactly 3:00 o'clock in June 2007 after the 35th anniversary celebration of Facemakers while it hung in St. George's Hall. The batteries were new."