I'm in a weird place where things are starting to feel 'normal.' Only I don't know what normal is. Everything is backwards, and the reality of life is just not right. And yet, I feel like I've been here awhile now. Sometimes you feel so distant from me, I can't remember if you were ever there. And most moments, I feel you close and see things in the house that you've touched just months ago. But I was laying in bed talking to Carter about you tonight, and I had to look up at your picture to help me remember. To prove you were there, to bring you closer.
I measure the time by Carter's age. He's getting so big, but it's painful to watch him grow and know that I'm getting further away from you, the longer we've lived and grown without you. It feels like just yesterday you were here, and yet I look at pictures of the kids the weeks leading up to your death and they look so young. How could so much time have gone by already?
This paradox is agonizing. I feel like my life will be frozen here forever: just living the rest my life day by day as Jeremy's widow. An eternity overshadowed by 8 short years and a life that wasn't finished. My every moment is still defined by this, and part of me doesn't ever want that to change. I'm proud to be yours. I'm proud of life we shared together, and the life we created together. It's just exhausting to continue our life and our family without you.
I'm talking in circles. But that's how I feel anymore. Nothing makes sense, even when nothing goes wrong. When everything is right, nothing feels right. I want to celebrate life and my blessings, but there's still so much pain with every breath I take.
I miss you with every ounce of me tonight. I'm wrapping myself in your Maple Leafs hoodie tonight.
I love you always and forever.