I realize now that the day you were to return home is ended, and you are not home.
Does this mean that I will live a lifetime of would’ve, should’ve, could’ves?
It seems that way. Another widow tells me that it will take the full year for it to sink into every cell…and the pangs will come at my first autumn without him, my first Christmas without him, my first New Years’ without him.
And what about Audrey’s birthdays, and first day of preschool, and kindergarten? What about her first dance, first date, high school graduation? What about the day she walks down the aisle to get married?
It is too much to live each moment, each day like this. Life becomes fragmented like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure Books with all of the different endings. Turn to page 93 if you want your husband to live. Turn to page 45 for a happy reunion.
No it’s more like two parallel lines actually- one that would’ve happened if I’d never received that phone call on July 6th. One that is my life happening post-phone call. Is it that if I keep one foot in the pre-phone call world that helps me survive? Or will it actually be the death of me? If I step into this reality, will it become just that- my reality? That is not something I am prepared for just yet.