One Year Later

It’s almost on year since Steve died. I’ve been very good. I’ve taken care of things. I’ve been strong, sensible, acted rationally most of the time. I’ve gotten through the year, still standing. So now what? Where’s the prize for behaving so admirably? Where’s my reward, my gold star? He’s still not coming back. I’m still alone facing yet another year and another year and years and years ahead of me without him. Right after he died, I kept repeating like a mantra, “I have to get through this year. I have to get through this year.” If I pass this test, survive this pain then something--what I didn’t know and certainly couldn’t verbalize—would happen. I knew it was a fantasy but maybe I needed it. Because here I am one year out, still feeling sad and angry and above all exhausted from it all. I miss my husband. I miss the intensity of his attention, the fierceness of his being. I miss being together even though it wasn’t always easy being together. I miss you Steve.