Every night she walks to beaches of Cheyenne.

I realized this week that I think I named my dog after Garth Brooks song Beaches of Cheyenne. It wasn't on purpose, so I think this is in the category of foreshadowing shit that happened in the last 5 years. Here:

First date was the lake fireworks. I can still feel that nervousness in my stomach when I think about picking out my outfit and waiting for him to pick me up. From there I feel every feeling I ever had in the last 6 years all at one time in just a few seconds. That's the only way I know how to explain it.  I've done a lot of thinking about the fireworks tonight. It's pretty clear why I'm anxious and upset about it, but I kept feeling like it was more than that. This feels different than Thanksgiving or Christmas or birthdays. Not worse or better, but completely different. There's a different nervousness and anticipation. Today, I pegged it.

Our first date was the lake fireworks. Tonight...this is our last date.

The feeling relates to the sense of closing a book or turning a new chapter, except I'm doing it kicking and screaming. It feels like 'the end' all over again. This explains why the predominant flashback has been me standing in front of his casket to see him one last time before the lid was closed.

In many ways, I'd rather live in today for the rest of my life. I don't want to have another 'last'. I'm digging my heels in to today, and I know I'm about to be yanked forward against my will. I don't have any idea how I want to handle the first anniversary. Most of me wants to disappear to a random hotel in a random nearby city, turn off my phone, and just isolate the entire day eating what ever I want and alternate between watching 8 Seconds, Coalminer's Daughter, and Pure Country. And I want to cry the whole way through all day. And I'll take a nap, too.