For a long time after Dan died, I had a ritual of talking to him each night about my day.
It helped me feel close to him, like he was still part of my life. My grief counsellor thought it was a healthy and helpful way of maintaining a relationship with him and it bought me a lot of comfort.
I realised this week that at some point, this nightly routine started to become less frequent and now it’s something I hardly do at all. My relationship with Dan is changing. And I’m not sure how I feel about this.
Next week would have been our second wedding anniversary, regular readers might be aware that he took his life unexpectedly six weeks after our wedding, so that second anniversary is also looming. As these milestones creep up I find myself thinking, what would our life be like now?
When you lose your beautiful husband to sudden and shocking death at age 39, just four years into your happy and flourishing marriage, one of the biggest things you are left with is something that I call "the knowing." What is the knowing? It is having the knowledge about a whole host of things regarding life and death, that your previous self had no clue about. Sure, you can read books on these things or witness them through watching people close to you go through something, but until you experience the violent assault of sudden death pushing it's way into your life, you really just don't know. And then, one day, you do.
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, because it never changes: Mike is ALWAYS on my mind. He doesn’t go away when I’m working, when I’m busy, when I’m cleaning or shopping, when I’m hanging out with friends old or new, when I’m listening to music or watching a movie…he doesn’t go away even when I’m thinking of my future that cannot include him. It’s like this little corner of my heart is, and always will be, reserved for him, and only him, and that awareness is constant, and eternal, at least as long as I shall live.
BUT - at the same time - he is not here...