Saturday Morning Memories

blue-cloud_7yRC-G_LSaturday used to be my favorite day of the week. It was a day off work when we could relax and do the things we missed out on Monday through Friday. Now Saturday’s are a stark reminder of what used to be and what no longer is. This Saturday, for example, marks twenty-two weeks that my Cindy has been gone. Yes, when you lose a special loved one, you tend to keep track of the days, weeks, months and special occasions that come and go without them.

For me and Cindy, Saturday was our regular “date day.” For as long as I can remember, Saturday morning meant a breakfast date. Since September of 2007, that meant a trip to the Queen Creek Cafe. We love that place. We started going there because, at the time, there weren’t many other options out here in San Tan Valley. We discovered great food and a wonderful staff who treats us like family. What more could you ask for? OK, my shameless plug is over.

The morning would usually start the same way. I would wake up first and I would roll over and start rubbing Cindy’s back and kissing her on the cheek. I would then ask if she wanted to get up and go get some breakfast. Her usual reply was, “In a minute, but could you scratch my back first?” That woman loved to have her back scratched. After a good scratch and some more rubbing and cuddling time, we would get up, get dressed, and head up to QC. Whatever else we had to do that day would have to wait. Our breakfast date came first.

Whenever Kevin was available, he came with us.

Now, Kevin and I keep the tradition alive by going up to the QC Cafe on Saturdays and the San Tan Valley Denny’s on Sundays (we’ve found another wonderful group of people who treat us like family).

It’s strange, but most Saturdays I still roll over expecting her to be there. For that split second, I forget what happened last August and my world is still right. As soon as I turn over and reach out, discovering only her empty side of the bed, the memory comes flooding back and my heart sinks just a little. It’s been five months, twenty-two weeks, and this still happens. I think it will take quite a while until I can wake up on a Saturday and not reach out for my Cindy. Perhaps that will come one day.

I still don’t know if Saturday will ever go back to being my favorite day of the week.


  1. I love you too, Donna. Pain is a constant companion, but it isn’t fatal. We all go through the fire in some way. This is mine.

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