six years

 Ken died six years ago on Friday (25th). It's hard for me to believe he's been gone 72 months. Somehow, it seems both longer and shorter than that. Ian and I were both numb that first year, our goal simply to not lose any more ground than we already had. It took all our effort simply to stay where we were emotionally. 

After the first year, we decided we would take a step forward. Not a bunch, but just one, and maybe look around the corner. We'd both been going to individual & group therapy, and were beginning to get used to this whole “just the two of us against the world.”  Ian learned that mom had done a whole lot more in her life than teach him and be “mom”. I learned that I was going to have to have him help me, but I had to be careful that I didn't put Ken's responsibilities on him. I won't say we thrived, but we survived. 

Slowly, the new normal set in, not comfortably, but tolerable. Ian graduated from high school and went to RIT. My housemate moved into my in-law unit. I joined SCA, and realized that I did not want to be classified as a widow anymore. I was too young. 

And now, here I am. Ian is starting his last two terms of school, and when he graduates in the spring, his job will be waiting for him. In Massachusetts. I have gone back to work as well. It's not been as easy a transition as I thought it would be. 

And yesterday came and went. Without fanfare. Without notice, except for me. The part of my heart that was amputated six years ago is mostly scarred over, although it will always be tender. I am still wandering mostly aimlessly trying to find my place in the world.  

And yes, I still miss him. I miss his intelligence, I miss his wit. I miss him playing guitar in the evenings, and coming up from his office downstairs to put lotion on my back.

But I miss all the days that might have been most of all. 

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