Marking this day ... as ... What?
I don't even know what to call this day. Is it a 'death anniversary'? That sounds morbid. "The date of my husband's passing"? Too long. "The day my widowhood began" sounds a bit dramatic, even for me.
Whatever you call it, the anniversary of the day Derek died marks a whole new chapter, or maybe even a whole new book of my life.
I lost both of my parents much too early in my life. Mom died of lung cancer in 2007, and Dad of pancreatic cancer in 2015. Their deaths made me sad. I miss them very much. But other than not being able to go 'home' for a visit, or pick up the phone and hear their voices, their passing didn't really change my life all that much.
I have heard it said that the death of a parent is a loss of the past, the death of a child a loss of the future. But the loss of a spouse is in the here and now. This one event changed my life more than any other. When Derek died, I lost a partner, a provider, and a care giver and a lover. I lost the person who fixed my computer glitches, who got mad at me when I spent too much, who sometimes drove too fast for my liking, worked way too many hours for my liking, and was always right way too often.
Sometimes I think I hear his truck coming home, eventually, just really, really, really late for supper. I catch myself thinking that I need to tell him something. I always felt like I was "off duty" when he got home.
Whatever you call this day, it is going to come around once a year, every year, whether I like it or not.
I have been trying to think of a way to end this blog with some insightful, clever, maybe even devotional or inspirational thought. I got nothing. Maybe next year. Stay tuned.
