Recently someone noted that the hardest day for them was the anniversary of the death of their spouse. That made me wonder how they see all the other days of the year.
Yes, the anniversary of Greg’s death is a hard day for me to face. But the rest of the days aren’t any better, knowing when I wake up each morning that I will never see Greg smile again, hear him laugh, be enveloped in one of his strong, warm hugs. Never again attend a concert, go to a movie, fuss and fight at work, or spend a Saturday just doing nothing with Greg. My Greg.
The hardest day . . . How would I ever determine that? Greg’s birthday? Christmas? Our anniversary? They are all hard days, from the day of Greg’s death until today – two years, one month, eleven days and twelve hours later.
Some days tears don’t come but linger nearby. Other days, like today, tears are a near constant through everything I do. From town to town. Down every highway. In sunshine and rain.
No matter which memories come to mind – even the happiest ones – the tears come unbidden for I no longer have my Greg in my life. That makes every day a hard day.
The hardest day? Today, tomorrow, the rest of my life.
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