After my husband’s death a year ago, I visit his grave on the 15th of each month, surrounded by memories and silence. Someone always arrived before me with beautiful flowers. Who could it be? I froze in tears when I learned.
They think grief evolves but never disappears. After 35 years of marriage, I stood in our kitchen alone, stunned by Danny’s morning shuffle’s absence.
I groped for him in my sleep a year after the disaster. Waking up without him was still difficult. Just became better at carrying it.
“Mom? Are you ready?” Alice jingled her car keys in the entryway. My kid has her father’s warm brown eyes with gold specks in the proper light.
I forced a smile, “Just grabbing my sweater, dear.”
It was our anniversary and my monthly cemetery visit on the 15th. Alice had been with me for months, apprehensive about my solo journey.
“I can wait in the car if you want some time,” she said as we entered the iron gates.
Dear, that would be lovely. Not long.”
