One year today

One year ago today, at 3:40 am, my sweet, wonderful, beautiful husband passed from this world to the next.

He fought so hard to beat that F’ing covid for a month in the hospital. If anybody could beat it, it would be him with his warrior strength and attitude.

30 days in ICU, 26 on the vent.

I only got to see him once when he was in because of the bullshit rules that kept families away from their loved ones.

Yes, I am angry.

I am also shattered.

My heart lays in a million pieces in my chest. Struggling to beat another day.

My breath is trapped in my lungs. I fear letting it out as I know it will come with a scream.

My eyes look at his picture and overflow with tears.

I look back on our all too short 13 years together and yearn for one more day to make one more memory with him.

One more ride thru the countryside on the bike where I can wrap my arms around his waist and feel his hair blowing against my face.

One more morning lazing in bed, drinking coffee and talking about our dreams for the future.

One more Friday evening Jack and cigars on the porch, watching the sun go down and relaxing after a long week.

One more trail ride on our horses.

One more kiss. One more hug. One more I Love You. Just one more.

Life will never be the same as it was. That goes without saying. It’s not the life that Robyn and I were planning. I am trying so hard to hold on to our dreams and make them become a reality to honor the life we built. To honor his life.

I do truly despise my “new normal” and I hate that term. It seems so trite in the midst of grief. I want my life with Robyn back and I know I won’t have that here again.

The edges of grief have not softened over the course of this past year. They are just as sharp and jagged as on the first day. They still slice into my soul. I don’t know if that will ever change. I am told it does, however, each of us walks our own journey of grief, alone.

Alone.

Blessed Be