Today is Different

Today is different. It’s special. It’s final. I opened my eyes with that thought clearly in my mind. The decision was not made lightly and I am confident that it is the best for everyone. Although isn’t that so cliché and presumptuous?

The first message came from my daughter-in-law as it did every year on this day. I should be thrilled that she cares but I wish she would let my son make the call. Now that David is gone hearing from our son is the closest to having my husband back. That’s what I really wish. My heart has never healed, and the tears come as frequently as they did that first night without him.

I check my email and Facebook. So many friends who still remember bring a smile to my face but not the smile David could elicit. We’d mock each other and laugh ourselves silly will old age jokes and the passing of more time. Now I feel those jokes. My muscles are sore and my feet are killing me. The likelihood of a fall eliminating the dream of wearing 4 inch heels again. Then again, without David it does really matter.

The day continues: a celebratory lunch with friends, dinner with siblings and then an evening walk alone. The one I have taken alone ever since David passed. This time I see the streets as we would have seen them together.

Brush my teeth and arrange all the letters on my side table. It has been a week of heartfelt sentiment to all who have loved me or whom I have loved. There should be no sadness. I open the bottle and empty it with a glass of Barolo. I will see you soon David and never have to spent another birthday without you.