Six Years

I woke up this morning, and as always, he was the first thought to cross my mind.  This is nothing new.  I wonder sometimes if I dream of him without remembering any of the details.  It wasn’t until I was at work that I realized it was April 12th.  There was something about this date that I knew I was supposed to remember.  My body reacted first.  My stomach rolled and a wave of nausea washed over me.  I had to sit down.  As I did, I realized that Terry was wheeled into surgery for the first time six years ago.  April 12th.

Six years ago I sat with him, holding his hand, watching the pain cross his face.  Six years ago, I was praying that the pain would subside and that he would be back to normal.  Six years ago, I didn’t know that Cancer would change the course of my life.

That day started the ball rolling.  I remember sitting with my brothers and my mom as we waited for the surgeon to tell us how the surgery went.  I remember praying, choking back tears.  I remember  that the minutes crawled by slowly, turning into hours before someone finally came to tell me that there were a few complications.  Soon after that, the surgeon found me.  He looked down, and when he finally looked at me, I knew there was something wrong.

Six years.  Six years since that day.  I sit here now and think of  how oblivious we were. Were we blind?  Were we naive?  I had no clue on that day just how much my life would change.

I’ve lived through this anniversary five times now.  The first two…I honestly cannot recall.  The third, I cried through that day.  The fourth, I tried to forget. Now this, my fifth, I struggle with my emotions.  Do I stop and find things to be grateful for?  Or do I let the pain of the memories take over?

All I know is this:  For the most part, I am stronger.  I find strength to get out of bed every morning, facing the world without my best friend by my side.  I know, as I look at my children, that he would be proud of me for raising our children on my own, and as we had always planned to.  I know that Terry had much more confidence in my strength than I ever did.  Knowing this, I know, too, that he would be proud of me for still standing today, not letting my grief knock me back to not living at all.

I have good moments, great moments, even. I still smile and laugh.  I learn more about myself every day.  I shower our kids with love and affection.  I have a new found confidence and strength.   I have found a way to hope again, and I  have rediscovered my Faith.

But I still have those “other” moments.  The days when I think of his smile, and tears sting my eyes.  Moments  when I long to hear his voice or laugh again.  Moments when missing him suffocates me.  Today, as the fog has lifted and the numbness has slowly left my heart, I think back to the “us” that was six years ago. Today, I have shed tears.  Today I have retreated from the outside world.  Today I miss him a little more.


About Finding Me Again

Mom to four of the best.Grandma to the Sweetest.Daughter.Sister.Aunt.Friend. Widow.
This entry was posted in bereavement, grief, strength, widow. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Six Years

  1. Widow Strong says:

    “Moments when missing him suffocates me.” There is so much in these 6 little words. Some days and some moments that is the only way to describe it.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. lorigreer says:

    This is so beautifully written about such a sad subject. Yes, we have more strength than we realize. My heart goes out to you as I know too well the suffering that you describe. Thank you for sharing. Lori


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