HARD TO BELIEVE...SIXTY YEARS...

 ago today, I was on my way to get my hair done so I could be a beautiful bride at the close of the day. If anyone had told me my marriage would last sixty years (actually 53.394 when John passed), I would have found that information completely inconceivable. My reason(s) for that wouldn’t be that I didn’t love my husband to be or that I thought we’d end up getting a divorce, but the fact that sixty years seemed unimaginable at the ripe old age of twenty.

          But the fact is time moved on and so did John and I. True, we had some difficult times, but the fact is the happy outweighed the unhappy (at least for me) by tons and tons. The memories I have of our marriage and family life are filled with times and days and weeks of not only special events, but the simple day-to-day lives we led as partners.

          As of yesterday, John will have been gone for seven entire years now. Somehow, I lost two years of that time or didn’t want to admit just how long it had been when speaking of him to family and friends over the last year. And while I’ve managed to get along just fine without John for those seven years, that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him. There may be days when I don’t even think of him and others where his absence makes me lose my breath with longing. There are even times when I think he’s just in the next room or asleep in bed with me.

          I thought that as time passed, I would reach a point where I didn’t miss him, where I didn’t want to spend another hour or day in his company, but apparently not enough time has passed. I would give anything to be able to wake up with John in the morning, to stumble into the kitchen and have him ask me to make him a latte too, to feel him walk up behind me and fold me into his arms, to hear him laugh, or even to hear him snore.

          No one told me how it would be once I was alone, how the silence grows and grows, how the house, our home, feels so empty without him. No one told me how difficult it would be to crave those hugs and kisses once freely given. No one told me how empty my bed feels, or my body for that matter, when making love isn’t an option. No one told me how hard it is when it’s necessary to make a tough decision and there’s no one with whom I can discuss the options.

          Before John passed, I used to look forward to the weekends. They were a time for us to do “things.” When I think back to weekends long passed, there are so many that still bring a smile to my mouth, a giggle to my throat or a wish it could be repeated. Now, I dread the weekends. They seem to last way longer than two days, forty-eight hours. Family and friends have their own lives to pursue, so my phone doesn’t ring and it’s rare I receive a visitor.

          Seriously, I thought by now John’s absence would be something to which I’d be totally accustomed, and I do admit that there are times and occasions when I rather like not having to consult him about whatever it is I am thinking about, whether it’s a movie or restaurant choice, a decision about our financial status, or even when to get up or go to bed.

          Still, given the option of having John here to share in my life or to continue as I’ve been doing for the last seven years, I would definitely choose the John alive option.

          Happy Anniversary John, wherever you may be!!!