I’ve been tossing and turning since the wee hours of the morning, my mind is too busy to sleep. Memories of two years ago are being muddied by the memory of last year and I’m a mess.
Two years ago we were stepping into a month of horror, living the end of the beginning of that end. We were marching toward a finish line none of us wanted to reach. The house smelled of death, the air was thick with fear and frustration – despair.
Last March I was stepping out of that house. My home, my life as a wife, had been packed into boxes or carted away. The widow was emerging into an unfamiliar pavilion and I was afraid.
March used to herald spring, bulbs push fragile shoots through winter packed earth, slender stalks brave the light of a season waiting on the horizon. March used to face forward. Not anymore.
It’s March again. We’ve almost survived another year without him – it’s been a year of seconds that felt like firsts – a year of resolution. There was no prize at the end of that first year, no award for surviving. There won’t be a prize at the finish line of this year either.
I still dream about kisses I will never taste again and I miss him more with every passing day.
I think I’m as settled as I’m ever going to be in this widowhood, this new house, but I still feel like a visitor. I’m waiting – for what I’m not even sure of. Grief doesn’t smother me anymore – I’ve survived two years of tomorrows without him, but this morning all I feel are the two years of yesterdays.
Comments (2)
One year is not long enough to mourn. You are too new to being without him. It will get better. I know no one ever believes that when a person says it. I took care of my mother for close to twenty years, watching her decline was the worst. I still can’t look at certain items in a store without thinking Mom would like that. It took forever to look a Kit Kat bar without cringing. It was her favorite sweet. But I can now eat one without feeling bad. I know that sounds stupid, but there were a lot of things I could not do or cope with after her death.
It is not wrong to remember the person, it just takes awhile for it to blend into your memories and be accepted when you see, smell or hear something about that person. It takes a while.
Thank you for those lovely words. ❤️