I’m coming up on the fifth anniversary of your passing and I think it’s safe to say this milestone anniversary is hitting me a bit harder. I know these feelings are normal. That this is all part of the grief journey I am still on. I am well aware of the stages and know that the journey isn’t a straight path, but more like a rollercoaster with ups and downs, twists and turns, and the occasional loop.
I often wonder what our life would be like if you were still here. What we would be doing with Parker, where we would’ve vacationed to, if we’d still be living in the same house, which new TV series we’d be interested in together. I’d like to think that you would’ve joined Jay in coaching the flag football team this year, and then maybe I would’ve been a Team Mom with Jen. I can imagine you out on the field coaching Parker, teaching him about sportsmanship … you both would’ve loved it. And I would’ve love seeing the bond strengthen between the two of you.
I think about all the things I wish I could talk to you about. Like my new job, wanting to move, missing my dad, how to tackle a new home project, how Parker is doing in school, of Parker will ever grow out of his seizure disorder. The list goes on and on. I miss the sound of your voice and laugh. I miss our conversations and talking to you on the phone while driving home from work everyday. I miss your advice.
I wonder what new hobbies you would’ve picked up on your own as well as what we would’ve found to do regularly together. I wonder how you would’ve changed over these last five years, and how we would’ve grown together as a couple. I know I’ve changed… a lot. Your death was certainly a catalyst for some of those changes. I guess I’m still undecided on whether they’re for the better or worse. Maybe I’m stronger than I was prior to going through the trauma or losing you. Then there are times where I feel like your death has ruined me... broken me down beyond repair. And I don’t feel strong at all, but the complete opposite.
I guess I am still trying to figure out how to do this life without you. I miss you and the life we had together. I miss our love and our friendship. I miss the little things … the family fantasy football league, watching and rooting for Michigan, your terrible off-beat dance moves, eating dinner together. I miss you and everything we had all the time, with every fiber of my being, and wish you were here.
I want you to know that Parker and I are doing ok. We are healthy and as happy as we can be. We’re doing our best to enjoy the life we have left. Our love for you runs incredibly deep, and that’ll never change. Love you always, babe.
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