This weekend marks three years since that terrible day. Three years since I lost my best friend and the love of my life. Suddenly. Without warning. I have also now lived the same amount of time without him as I shared with him... and going forward will mean increasing that gap. I remember dreading this day constantly through the first year. I remember how inconceivable it was to be so far away from the day I last heard his voice. How I could not even imagine being alive this long sometimes. How I could not imagine the breath of life ever coming back into me. Yet here I am... Somehow, miraculously, still standing. Still breathing. And even living and laughing again.
Things are better these days. Most of my days are good days now. My life is full and rich again, although still very up-in-the-air and not without struggle. It is messy still, but full of things that bring meaning to the fact that he lived and died. I have worked hard to make sure of it. And after these three initial years of wandering through a terrifying trauma, I can attest that creating meaning from the pain has been the single greatest way I have known to find hope and begin to build a full life again. It has helped me to heal over and over again, endless times for a vast field of splintered pains left over from his death. It has given a purpose to my life to honor him in how I live and love forward.Read more