Warning: somber topic

Next week marks the eighth year of the death of my husband, Al. It seems like yesterday, yet feels like a lifetime.

My grief doesn’t confine itself to a day, month, or year, but there are certain days when it demands center stage.

In my case it starts with the month of January. Not just January 20^th, the day he passed, but from the first day of the month until his last. It seems the dreaded turning of the calendar from 6 to 7, or 7 to 8 years must be digested slowly. During that time, it’s challenging to concentrate on anything other than what I’ve lost. I can’t explain why but when the clock signals January 21^st the spotlight pans to the present and nudges the worst of my emotions offstage to the wings. Strange!

Then comes Yours, Mine, and Ours! This was our clever and playful plot that resulted in a Monday wedding so that our birthdays and anniversary would fall on June 7, July 7, and August 7. Although the idea still makes me smile, heartbreak usually manages to steal a scene or two on those days as well. And, like a lot of people who have lost a loved one, holidays can be less than ideal.

Al’s death wasn’t written in our script, but life has a way of ad-libbing. It's not always easy, but every day I cherish the memories and embrace the sorrow. If there is no sorrow, there was no love. So, I’ll take the sadness and heartache. It’s a reminder of how lucky I was, and am, to have had Al in my life.

In loving memory!