Twenty five. Twenty-five years. Next week. We only made it twenty-three years, two weeks and one day. Suzanne died on August 19, 2018. Our 23rd anniversary was August 4, 2018. This was a photo we took at dinner that night: Will I ever reach a 25th anniversary? Is it one of those things that I […]
Photo by Karim MANJRA on Unsplash I spend a lot of my time reading about death, dying, and grieving, participating in webinars and holding space sessions with grief experts, people who’ve developed wise perspective on what it is to love, to lose, and to continue living. Apart from two moments since Mike’s death, I have […]
This past week we have been honouring and commemorating Julia. (And Mike. And Ed. And Don. Of course). Like we do every day. Of course. But particularly Julia this week. The first “deathiversary”. The first anniversary post mortem. I don’t really know why the one-year anniversary feels like such a rite of passage. It’s not […]
Main Photo by Marc Wieland on Unsplash So there we have it. Here we are again. Time has rolled around. As it is wont to do. Dates might not have, but the sense, the weight of that Sunday night 52 weeks ago, most definitely has. A hot day in our part of the world with […]
Hey bud, You know, there are a lot of coincidental similarities between you and I. I mean, even at age 6, I was fascinated by flight (spaceflight specifically, at the time), visiting Kennedy space center, and the US air force museum. I enlisted in the Marine Corps at 17, and guess where I ended […]
Eight years ago today my world changed forever, suddenly, and in ways I couldn’t have imagined…
Yesterday was our anniversary. Next week, the 8th anniversary of his death. That’s a day that a lot of people still remember. But yesterday… no one else really remembers…
Four years later, it is time to focus on the life I have, not the life that was supposed to be. But, this is much easier said than done. I don’t know much for certain, but I can say, I’m not as lost without him anymore. I don’t know why or how, but I am able to live without Mike with more ease now. I have finally accepted that Mike died and he is never returning.
I originally wrote parts the original blog, “Marry Me”, two years ago; and the good news is that my grief has changed since then. Sure, I still imagine our life in my head, but I do it in a less “desperate” way. I’m less frantic now. I’m more at peace, thankfully.
I know and understand that the life I shared with Mike is over. I accept the finality of it. I never thought I would, but I finally have accepted his death. I now can accept his death in my head AND in my heart. Wow. That’s the first time I’ve ever admitted this in writing. It’s taken me, nearly four years but I’m finding my way back to life again.
I want you to know a few things. After Suzanne dies, you will feel like there is little potential of anything ever making your life any better. Did you know that you will be scared, hurting, very much alone (even surrounded by friends and family), completely lost, and heartbroken? Please know that although you could potentially just curl up in a ball and die from that heartbreak, you won’t.
Potential is an interesting word. It means, “having or showing the capacity to become or develop into something in the future.” When Suzanne dies, you will feel like there really is no future to develop into.
When that time comes, all you will want to ask yourself is, “What’s the point?” I mean, there won’t be a single thing that truly appeals to you as having any real potential for your future.
There seems to come a time in life for those of us who do not grow up with formal religion – and perhaps it’s triggered by loss and hardship, perhaps by age – where we search for meaning in losses and in life, and messages or clues that there might be something before and after […]
Stay with me, my beloved husband. Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be without you in this life. Words uttered only in my heart as my hand gently touched your forehead. As my hand glided over your cheekbones, sharpened by cancer. As my two hands wrapped around your fingers, stroking your knuckles. Remembering the […]
Dear Tin, It’s so hard to believe that this week makes the second year I’ve had to wake up without you. I don’t know how to describe how 2 years feels like already and forever ago at the same time. Many people don’t understand that grief comes in drops, ripples, waves and flash floods. For […]