It’s March. I think my body and emotions will forever remember this time of the year.  As time presses closer the world seems to close in. I have to fight tunnel vision.  Every task seems strenuous. I’m physically exhausted again.  Feeling like I’m back to point A in the grief, but I know I’m not. Things are better.

 If I sound abstract it’s only because I feel abstract.  As an abstract painting.   Happy and sad colors splashed in random places.

I had purposed to retain every memory of he & I, every scent, every emotion…I honestly thought I might remember every minuet detail because in our empty nest years we had found heightened pleasure by living in the moment, living in “our moments”.  But I find myself forgetting the depth of the emotions.  This brings deep angst.

I now think I knew I was going to lose him….because snippets of memories periodically pass through my mind.  How I sensed we weren’t going to live to a ripe old age together.  How I tried to ignore my thoughts, thinking they were mere fears. How I felt driven, compelled, even spurred on to love him with unbridled passion and fervence.  All as if there were no tomorrow.  All as if wanting to partake of every good thing with and in each other.

In hindsight I know, for certain, that he had a sense that our time would come to an end earlier than we wanted….by the things he said, even the day before he unexpectedly passed.  Things he had said to our children at a Thanksgiving dinner. Things he had said to the Gingerich family on his 60th birthday.

Thankfully I had taken the time to gaze at him, to savor those precious moments and let time stand still with him.  We had learned to vacation within our home.  We had learned to let the world slip by.  No words of love were held back.

But I go forward. Yes, with God.  Not lost ~  but certainly by myself.  (But I still wonder if our loved ones  in heaven aren’t praying and caring for us….I swear I feel this).