Today marks 1,000 days since Tony died. 999 days I’ve woken up as a widow.
I have a countdown app on my phone. The kind most people use to enter fun things, like upcoming vacations or special events. I do use it for those things, but awhile back I also discovered that it would count up after an event. I couldn’t help myself but to enter Tony with a broken heart emoji and his death date, April 20, 2021.
Last week, after I got back from vacation, I booked myself a few weekends away without my kids. I was updating my countdown app, deleting the trip we just took and adding the new ones. That’s when I looked down at the line for Tony and noticed we were almost to 1,000 days.
So much life missed in a thousand days. There is no point in counting because it feels immeasurable. Even if I added all the games, birthdays, and special occasions there is so much that you cannot assign a number to. There is no way to count the number of hugs, sarcastic side eyes, or belly laughs we’ve missed.
Then I wonder why I do this to myself. Why do I keep his death date programed in my phone? For me, it hurts but I also want to see it. I can decide when to look at it and see how much time is between us. Like knowing I can play our song on Alexa at any given moment to take me back in time. Scrolling through photos and videos to see the man I will always love.
Lastly, I look back on these one thousand days and think how far I have come. How to keep finding joy in life, all while living with sadness. The duality of life that I have discovered in grief.