Moving Forward

It's been a little over 17 months. We have all come a long way. Our hearts are healing. We have made new memories. We have vacationed. We have made new friends. We have met new challenges and worked through them. There is a new man in my life. A really wonderful man, who I am certain Bill would have really liked. We are moving forward into a new life without him. One that he will never physically be a part of.

I am very grateful for the life that I have and I have found happiness again, but I am also mourning the life that we would have had with Bill here. I frequently find myself rejoicing in things that happen to us, but at the same time feeling sorrowful that Bill isn't there to experience them with us. I have accepted that this is likely how it will be for the rest of my life.

We will always miss him.

We will always love him.

What happened to him will always haunt me.

The second year is hard. In nearly every grief book I read this was addressed, but I failed to see how it could possibly be worse than the first. Now that I am here I get it. It's harder for different reasons. I am fully awake and most of the trauma has subsided. So much emphasis is put on making it through all the "firsts," but we are now aware that this reality of grief is ours forever. Reminders of him are everywhere. And while the memories of him are sweet, they are also very painful reminders that he is gone.

My heart aches every time I see a cyclist. Every time I hear sirens I have a sinking feeling. So many of my childhood and young adult memories include him. And because we had been together for so long, so many of my friends were "our" friends. Weekends are still hard when the kids and I don't have plans or something to distract me from the fact that family time feels different when it's just the four of us.

My newfound love has been a really beautiful gift. Daily I am in awe of all the joy it has brought to my life, but it cannot ever take away the pain of missing Bill. Just like my love for him lives in a different place than my love for Bill, it is also separate from the heartache I feel. And that's ok. Love and heart ache can coexist. I remind myself that this pain, while torturous at times, is a gift. A reminder of how much I loved and was loved, and now I am loved and am loving again.

We will continue to move forward and take him with us along the way. Every day is a new opportunity to create meaning and purpose in our lives. Sometimes this journey is scary, and it's so hard to not be in control, but we are moving ahead with love and hope in our hearts.