Today was an anniversary of sorts, one that I NEVER thought that I would observe.  It has been 6 months since Bobby died.  6 MONTHS!!!  How is that possible???  How is it even possible that it happened at all??  Maybe that seems crazy that I didn’t think about this as an outcome since my husband fought multiple cancers for over 5 years.  But, I focused on the present, on the healing, and on him.

For anyone reading who has lost a close loved one, you probably understand my, “How is that possible?” question.  It is rhetorical after all, because thousands of people die every single day.  But, why MY person?  Well, the answer to that is not one that I’m going to get an answer to any time soon either.  And, I accept that for the most part.  I’m no more special or entitled than anyone else.  If others must endure losing those they love, so then must I.  It’s just so hard to believe sometimes.

Some days are much more difficult than others which I suppose is a small step forward.  For a very long time every day was kind of the same, and I just felt numb.  I think of the way I feel now as sort of a thawing out.  Something that I must endure if I am to become human again.  I can’t live forever frozen the way that I have been. But it hurts, and it’s hard to deal with at times.  It’s exhausting and causes the deepest fatigue I have ever experienced.  I hate crying and feeling out of control especially when it happens unexpectedly or in front of someone else.

Today was unexpected.  I didn’t think about the date until late this afternoon.  It was one of those house remodeling days where there was a lot that DIDN’T go exactly as I wanted.  I was walking Max this afternoon and there were tears, though I knew it was kind of dumb to cry over insignificant matters in home remodeling warfare.  I suddenly realized the date and the true significance of my tears.  Maybe it was a coincidence; maybe it wasn’t, but I stopped dwelling on the sink faucet handles, toilet seat, and depth of the fireplace.  Then of course, I really boohooed because I just wished that B was here to help me figure out the right type of hardware to put on the guest bedroom’s closet door.  I had just had a discussion with my carpenter and plumber about how remodeling was stressful and caused divorce and strife.  I’m sure B and I would have had MANY a good argument over insignificant details (yes to my giant tub, no to the crystal chandelier), but I also know that we learned a WHOLE LOT about what was important and what wasn’t in our short time together, so we would have been just fine.  Plus, he would have given in to what I wanted for the most part after doing the requisite grumbling! 😉

So, then I went for a drive with Max.  We sort of drove aimlessly.  We ended up at the cemetery where I talked to my mom a little.  We drove into the country and watched the sun set.  It was beautiful. I often wish that B had grown up here or that I was living somewhere where he and I had made a lot of memories.  Sometimes it’s really hard not being where WE were US or being around people who knew HIM and US.   But then, I can easily turn on some Springsteen or a million other songs and that can take me there.  I can close my eyes and be there in a second.  I know that he is with me in the car and with Max and even at the cemetery with my mom.  That’s comforting.

So, life goes on despite the fact that it’s kind of scary and often emotionally draining.  In 2 weeks, I will be moving OUR things from storage in Houston to Arkansas where they will become MY things in my grandparent’s remodeled house.  I look forward to this so much, yet I dread it too.   It will be so final, and I know things that I haven’t even thought about yet will hit me hard straight in the face.  I know many probably don’t understand how much I miss Houston.  It was our last home together, it was a place where B and I learned to appreciate the little stuff more and became even closer to each other, the city that showed us extreme care and compassion through his stem cell transplant and Hurricane Harvey; it was our last hope, and we never gave up that hope.  Still haven’t.