Today marks eleven months since the day of my husband’s death.
Eleven months ago today, at this hour, I was sitting numbly in the living room of our home in the Plains, various people surrounding me doing various things. I signed papers, I drank the coffee handed to me, I said hello and shook hands with officials, I looked at my son playing on the floor with the Commander’s wife, I accepted flowers, I nodded my head as my friends held up articles of clothing they were packing into a suitcase for my son and I to fly out first thing the next morning. But I didn’t cry. I did throw up once, and I did take a shower because somewhere in my subconscious I was acutely aware of the fact that I was still in my pajamas from that morning with no bra on, but never once did I cry. I was in shock, and oh so numb.
Now today, I long for that numb existence. I’d love to not be able to feel, to have people holding my hand and telling me what to do next. I’d love for everyone around me to know my story. But most of all, I’d love for it to have only been 24 since I spoke to him. I’d love to still remember his voice, to still feel the words ‘I love you’ on my lips, to still feel the contented and loved peace I felt when I hung up the phone after our last phone call.
Instead, I am officially in the countdown to the one-year anniversary. In one month, it will have been an entire year since my best friend and only love left this world. It will have been one year and one day since the last time I heard his voice. And it will have been one year and six months since the last time I saw his face. I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready for this milestone, this dreaded anniversary. Those who have gone through this before have advised me that the anticipation leading up to an anniversary like this one is often worse than the day itself, and I so hope that is true. Because at a month away, I am already agonizing over it.
I have a month to try to think of ways to honor him, honor us, and make the day as peaceful as possible. I know I’ll visit him, and take our son. I know we’ll release balloons to Daddy as we’ve done before, and I know I’ll bring him fresh flowers. But I want to do something else, something grand, something as spectacular as he was.
Good thing I have a month, because that’s a pretty high standard to meet. <3