Like a freight train, time is bullying its way forward. Come February, which feels just around the corner, I will have been five years without Mike. I sit here in his chair on the lanai we shared in this house, looking down on the ocean view he loved so dearly, wondering how that is possible.
Because in this moment, and so many others, it feels like yesterday. The pain feels raw and real and the missing him hasn’t stopped. And yet I have been forced to continue to deal with life in this world all this time, without him.
Today marks 18 months since my husband died. One and a half years. Forever.
He was in the Air Force and often went TDY (temporary duty) in our first years together and mostly I didn't know where he was during those times and would watch the news to maybe figure it out. But he was never gone for more than a few weeks at a time and then he'd be home safe with me and we'd carry on our love affair of a marriage.
This is the longest we've ever been apart. And, presumably, given my mostly young (ish) age, I'll spend many years without him. None of that is alright, in any way.Read more