I woke up this morning and immediately thought of Mindy. I didn’t think that the full weight of it all would hit me until tomorrow…that is, after all, the ‘real’ anniversary. But today is Wednesday. Wednesday was the day 52 weeks ago when I lost my best friend. This morning the full weight of that hit me just as it did that morning.
I hopped into the shower to get ready for work, the same as I did that morning 52 weeks ago. But this time the house was quiet. No sleeping children; no snoring spouse. I grabbed my blackberry and as I put it on my belt I recalled that I could’ve made that call to 911 on my cell phone that morning…but I called from the land line. I walked through the living room purposely avoiding the space where I found her laying on the floor (I’ve moved the furniture to help with that) and walked out the front door.
Today is not as bad as that day was. Today is not the day I had to perform CPR on my wife to no avail. Today is not the day I had to tell my children that their mother would never come home. But today is up there near the top of the list. There are other days that I lost it; days that I am glad I was alone so no one could see me ball my eyes out like a little kid, but today marks a bittersweet milestone. We made it a whole year and we’re still in one piece. A whole year has passed and we’ve kept each other from completely falling apart. It makes me smile to know I have such great kids, and so sad to know Mindy won’t be there to praise them as they achieve great things in their lives.
As I wrote this, I received a card from my co-workers. I didn’t think they would remember what day it was…I was wrong. I’m so blessed to have such wonderful family and friends to lean on. I couldn’t have made it through a whole year on my own. I’m still a basket case some days but everyday I get a little stronger. Everyday it gets a little easier to know that I’ve made it one more day without her. My children have survived one more day in my care with only memories of their mother’s love.
I still sleep with pillows in the middle of the bed, so it feels like she’s there…but I’m sleeping; a little more here and there. I still see things that I know she would find funny; I tell her…in my head. I still get mad when the kids are tired and whining that she’s not here to help…but I’m blessed that they still remember so much about her.
I’m still heartbroken….but we are doing well.