Three years and three months. Today it has been three years and three months since we lost Rod. Sometimes, now, over three years later, the 28th comes and goes without my giving it too much thought. Sometimes on the 28th I wake up, acknowledge it, and get on with my day. Today happens to be my middle boy's birthday and I'm sad that Rod isn't here to tell him happy birthday, that instead I am making this ridiculous connection between the birthday and the death day which wasn't even in September. I hate this shit. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
I'm not even going to say how badly I want him back, because that's a given, we all want them back and it's simply not possible so there is no point in even saying it. What IS possible, and what I WILL say I want, is some semblance of normalcy back in my life and in my own head. I want to not have these stupid widow idiosyncrasies and superstitions and I want every day to not be centered around the very irrevocable fact that my husband is dead. I want the root cause of my thoughts to be something other than my husband's death. I want to not spend every day thinking about death!!!
I need an electric fence for my own thoughts. When they go there, just zap me and make me stop. Think about something else. About life. Or frogs. Or taxes. About anything that is not death.
Maybe another three years and three months will see me back to normal. Whatever that may be.