(no subject)

I said at my wife's memorial service that if I could go back in time and change one thing about my marriage, I wouldn't. (I've thought of something since then. I'd change not having been there when she died.) Those nearly twenty seven years weren't all good of course, but overall they were. Today it would have been thirty.

Part of the reason I said it that way, though, is I've been hard pressed ever to think of any specific good moments. It's distressed me since she's been gone that the moments whose memories are scattered through my days now are generally the bad ones, when I trespassed or she did.

But recently, when I was thinking about this apparent prominence of the bad moments, I also thought about the prominence of the good years. I know she was good for me and I know I was good for her. So I guess the reason the bad moments do stand out is because they stand against a background of homogenous blur of good.