Today marks the third month without you. Ninety days since I last held your hand and said goodbye. I have burned a candle every night since you left and looked for you in the warm glow of the flame. Sometimes I can actually feel your presence in the dancing light; but most of the time it just serves as a beacon to the memory of you.
It’s lonely here without you; and sometimes I am sad. But I have been keeping myself busy with the daily chores and activities of the farm, vehicle maintenance, and my new shop in the garage. There is some comfort in the routine of the farm. Moving the horses in and out, mucking stalls, and feeding the animals are not just chores, but also daily reminders of the normalcy of this idyllic life.
The passage of time is marked in many ways. For the vehicles, it is the wear and tear of miles driven, tanks of gas, and oil changes. For the animals it is counted in bags of feed, bales of hay, or visits from the Ferrier or vet. For the girls here at home it is in school assignments, sports activities, prom, graduation.
But what about me? In the past, we moved through life together, first as a couple, then as husband and wife, and then as a family. We celebrated birthdays, a wedding, anniversaries, births of children, and all the subsequent milestones as parents. We watched our girls grow up and attend college, pursue creative endeavors, join the Peace Corps, navigate relationships, a wedding, start careers, and even families of their own.
For me the clock got reset on the day you died; and the passage of time changed from “us” to “me”. So today is day 90 of "me without you". All the other parts of our life together are still alive and in motion; they are just missing you. Grief is simply a bridge between the two worlds - one with you in it and one without you.
Sometimes I still find myself stuck in the memory of “us”, and the pain of loss is heavy. Ironically, in those moments I look to the light of your candle burning on the dresser to guide me forward along the way to “me”.
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