Three years and one month ago I found myself facing the most painful event of my life alone. Death was unfamiliar to me, and a strong, young man at the height of his career with his personal goals at an all time high was suddenly taken from us as the result of someone else' negligence. For over a year I cried every single morning upon waking. His bathrobe hung on the door where he left it until just a month ago. Most of his things remain tucked in his drawers and on his side of the closet. Perhaps if I had been given some warning, or maybe if I had been allowed to view his remains, or if I had ever lost a loved one so unexpectedly or senselessly I could have regained composure sooner.
This life altering event has changed me in so many ways. I strive to be more like him, who was in fact more like Christ than anyone I have ever known. This is not blasphemy; it is a truthful statement that Larry was a clean, sober, silly, honest, hard-working man with the best intentions, the patience of a saint, and the most flexible person I have ever known.
Every day I strive to be someone who puts my trust in God to sustain me, to be a blessing to others, and to accept even the worst news as God's will. Life is hard. Sometimes I just wish God would realize I need to be with Larry- here, there- it doesn't matter. I don't want to partner up with any other man, but I don't want to be alone forever either. Three years have passed and I see I am aging and I look at his photos- still young and handsome. I cry. Three years & it's still so surreal- a bad dream.
I see widows/widowers who were married 20- 30 years who are married again in no time. I can't wrap my mind around it. I understand we are all different. We have different needs, different ways of coping with our grief. But me? I am still painfully in love with a man I will never see walking through the door again.