Today is the day after the day that, one year ago, you died. Yesterday was the first anniversary of my husband’s death. The first anniversary of the first day of my life without you.
The day before yesterday was the first anniversary of the last day of my life with you. I tried to recall every detail, every word we spoke to each other, and I couldn’t. Life was already upside down with the new baby and not sleeping and crazy postpartum hormones. The baby didn’t do well alone in a crib so I ended up holding him almost 24/7. We learned that a mother’s smell and presence is soothing to her newborn and you said that your smell and presence had the same affect on me. (I think you said that to me on the day before you died.) You were right. I was soothed by your presence. I needed it.
And then in the space of only a few hours your presence was gone.
Yesterday was the first anniversary of that loss. Like so many, I can’t believe it has been one year since you left us. I am full of so many different emotions. Relief that yesterday was nowhere near as bad as that first day. Elation that I made it through. Surprise at how far I have come. Hope that life will continue and keep getting better. And sadness. Sadness that runs deep and to the bone. Because I have moved forward and left you behind. Because I can’t easily recall the tone of your voice. Because I cannot feel the touch of your hand. Just because I don’t hurt like I did one year ago does not mean I don’t hurt.
Your absence is felt by many. I miss you, JJ.