I’m 38 today. Eight years since 30, 2 years until 40. Is it supposed to be surreal? Am I truly supposed to feel like I’m getting older? I guess I’m considered middle-aged, or “getting up in the years”. But, do I feet like I’m anywhere near the end of the story? I don’t. I don’t feel old or long in the tooth. Sure, my back…
Experience
1273
1,273 days. That’s how long I have been a widower, as of this very moment. It’s an arbitrary number…over 1,000, not quite 1500. Not an even number, nor a prime number. It doesn’t signify a specific milestone or even an approaching one. It’s just Tuesday, 1,273 days since Megan’s death. I’ve now been through 3 of her…
Pre-survivor’s Guilt
It’s Monday night. After a long holiday weekend, and a single day of work, I’m off for a week. Sarah and I are traveling to Texas tomorrow, to meet with her friends and family and celebrate the memory of Drew, as they’ve done yearly since his death. The loose ends are tied up at work. Our bags are packed and we’re into the impatient…