This is a Really Real Widow post.

A few days ago, the last picture I ever took of her came across my TimeHop.

A couple of weeks before that was the video I took right before she went in for surgery.

The surgery that technically had nothing to do with her death.

But stress adds up.

For a long time, I wanted to blame it on the anesthesia.

It felt like she was off from the day of surgery,

but I also think desperation was setting in.

Who knows.

It won’t change the outcome anyway.

It’s only the 6th . . .

her actual death day isn’t until the 8th.

Or the 7th if you consider when she actually took the pills.

These final few days before the yearly anniversary of her passing are so so hard.

They drag out slowly.

Little memories popping up here and there.

Emotions running on high.

I know the actual day will feel like I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding for the past week.

It always does.

I talked to Kidlet about having a virtual get together with friends.

Friends that knew her.

Maybe even friends that wanted to get to know her through our stories.

When I brought it up to him it felt like the most important thing in the world.

For him, the day doesn’t hold as much weight, but he wanted to go along whatever was most healing for me.

I don’t know what I’ll end up doing that day.

Right now the gathering doesn’t seem as important.

Honestly, each year I feel like it’s not a big deal this year.

And then I find myself holding my breath anyway.

This year I keep trying to relax.

Trying to unclench my shoulders.

Trying to stay in the moment.

Trying to remember that these days are important where I am now.

That it’s far more important than wrapping myself up in the emotions of the past.

Today I stood quietly while the vet administered the medications that allowed Trillian, the grumpy old lady of the house, to peacefully drift off.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in the room for that process.

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to be there for this one either.

But I stood there beside Wonder Woman,

rubbing her arm and reminding her that I was beside her while she pet her sweet kitty through the whole process.

I wondered if Parker took her last breath that peacefully.

I wondered how different it would have been if we had been able to offer my dad the same humane way to end his not so gradual demise.

Death is inevitable.

It’s the only thing we know for certain will happen when we take our first breath.

It still comes as a shock on the day it arrives.