Today would have been 18 years married. We were together a year and a half before we got married, so we were coming up on 20 years together.
It has been 5 years since I’ve seen him. Touched him. Heard his voice. Listened to his heart beating.
I am afraid, most of all, of being without him longer than I was with him. I am jealous of those people who had 30, 40, 50 years. One client I talk to was a few months shy of 60 years before their spouse died.
Every day, every month, every year, takes me that much further away from when I last saw him and that much closer to the day when I’ll have been without him longer than with him.
I’m not destroyed today. But I am sad. And I am doing a lot of self care. And my lovely sexxy chef has been amazing in supporting me and helping me through this day.
Happy Anniversary to the dead guy.