November 28th

It's November 28th.  A date that, for most people, holds no other significance.  It didn't for me last year.  But, this year, it does.  November 28th marks the six month anniversary of the day that I lost the love of my life to cancer.

It was six months ago today that I was holding Jason's hand, caressing his face while trying to wipe the tears away from my own.  It was six months ago today that I heard my love take his last breath and slip away from all our lives.  It was six months ago today that my heart broke in such a way that it will never fully be repaired.

It makes me wonder, what has really changed in six months.  A new friend - a fellow widow - asked me last night what six months felt like.  It was a great question that I tried to answer honestly.  But, I'm not sure a lot has changed in this time.  I feel like I'm dealing with my grief a lot better than I was 3, 4, and 5 months ago.  I feel like I have more good days than bad.  I feel like I've learned to find some sort of minimal balance between bringing my grief out in the open and keeping it tucked away.  I think more of a balance is needed, as there have been plenty of times (especially lately) where I've nearly broken down at work.

But, has my grief really changed in six months?  When I think about what happened at 5:06am that morning, it hurts just as much as it did then.  I replay that morning minute by minute in my head still and my body, my heart begin to hurt.  I begin to sweat, cry, tremble...and I just want to fall down and curl up into the fetal position.  It still hurts so much, and I'm beginning to wonder if that pain will ever go away.  Sure, there are many days during the month when I don't feel this pain.  It's only when I take the time to open my mind and remember.  That's when the hurt comes flooding back, as if it's flowing right out of my soul.

So, in six months, I feel like I've learned a little, but still have a very long way to go before I feel completely in control of this monster called grief.  I think the holidays are making things a little harder.  Those firsts are always going to be tougher than the seconds and thirds.  In the blog before this, I wrote about breaking down when I heard Feliz Navidad on the radio.  That was a tough first...one I wasn't expecting.  But now, because I've made it through that first one, I can laugh again.  I hear that song (4 times today) and I laugh...just like I did before with Jason.  That must be a good sign, right?

Jason, I love you so much...even more if it's possible.  I miss you so incredibly much.  I go to bed every night hoping that you'll come to me in my dreams.  Tonight, will be no different.  Good night my sweet love, and please come see me tonight.

Until next time -
Stuart