On November 6, 2009, Sue and I put the finishing touches on a trip we took every year. Little did we know that just hours away we would never be able to take this trip… or any trip, for that matter. Our life was just cancelled. Sorry, no refunds , exchanges, or transfers.
We would go every year to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. It was a time to just have fun, eat a ton of local food, and let our cares go. For me, I was certainly not opposed to the public display of boobs. Hey, the more the merrier! Mardi Gras was like a ten-block frat party and I was completely in my element. Bring it on!
We would always stay an extra day, after the revelers left and the streets returned to normal to do some sightseeing. Sue loved going on the ghost tours and blowing twenty dollars at the slots. For me, I liked visiting the centuries-old cemeteries and walking through the French Quarter admiring the architecture (particularly the porches). It was always the perfect end to a perfect trip.
Like our summer vacations, Christmas traditions, family trips, and dinner outings, this ended in an instant. More precisely, our previous lives ended in an instant.
I long for those times.. in the worst way. I miss Mardi Gras. It represented a time when all was right in my world. Now it’s just a yearly reminder, cruel and uncaring, of all that was taken. It’s really no different from Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas and the week we went on summer vacation. In my wildest dreams I never imagined tradition would cause pain, let alone this much.