This is a Really Real Widow post.
Widowhood is weird.
Like, it’s no longer really a noticeable thing every day.
Well, I mean it is, because it profoundly changed me, and this version of me only exists because of it. But it’s not something where it is in the forefront of my mind on any sort of a regular basis.
And then some anniversary rolls around. Her birthday, her death day, our wedding anniversary.
And these next two.
The anniversary of the day we celebrated her life, and the anniversary of the day we met.
Each anniversary brings with it different memories. Memories of when she was alive, memories of that whirlwind year after she died.
It’s so strange sometimes, the way I end up with a foot in each world. One world where I wonder what would have been if she was still alive. One world where I’m so happy to be. A world surrounded by chaos and a world where there is stability.
Somewhere in the basement I have a scrapbook with her recollection of the first time we met. It was a book she planned to add to, giving me her side of our story, because I was the one who normally told the stories.
At one point, after she died, that book was always on the coffee table. I read it often, it felt so comforting to have her words to hold onto.
And now, it’s packed away in a box, probably along with my baby book. Things that I can dig out and look through, but not anything to concern myself with on a regular basis.
Sometimes there is guilt in this. Did I really love her if I’ve been able to pack those memories away? Did I really love her if she doesn’t have a predominant space in my home? Did I really love her if I’ve been able to more forward?
I know the answer is that I absolutely love her. Not only in the past tense, but now, still, always and forever.
The Parker sized hole in my heart has smoother edges, and I’ve learned to live around it. Her death forever changed me, I see her influence in things that I do every day.
Often I have some grand point in mind when I start to write these posts. And with this one, there wasn’t really an ending in mind. I just felt the need to put fingers to keys.
She will always be a part of me.
I miss her.