I was married for 2 years, 7 weeks and 5 days. Having always been someone ruled by the calendar, I knew that the date was approaching, sometime in October, when I would be a widow longer than I was married. I had forced myself not to count.
I thought that it would feel devastating to me. That I would feel so sad, that it would feel somehow similar to the first New Year’s Eve that I spent without him, where I felt this panic, knowing that this was the end of the year that he was still alive in.
For some reason, on Wednesday, I couldn’t resist. I was looking at a calendar for another reason, and I just counted it out. I had passed it already. Phew.
I felt so free.
For some reason, I feel like “Ok, enough, Noel. Stop looking back. Look forward. Turn your head.”
I miss him every day. I love him still, and I think I always will. This is not the life I would choose. But, this is the life I got, and I have to live it, and learn to love life, and I think I’m starting to again.