Happy Anniversary to my Late Husband

Dear John,

Today was our 30th wedding anniversary. Another milestone without you. This was my 4th wedding anniversary without you, and it seems like just yesterday we were sitting together at the kitchen table, joking an laughing over a cup of coffee. At the same time, that also feels like a lifetime ago.

I woke up this morning, having lived these kinds of days without you before, but today, it was harder. I was slower to get out of bed. I struggled to get through the things that needed to be done. It was a beautiful sunny day, but there was a fog surrounding me all day long. I am not happy today.

I miss you. These special days are hard and the vacuum created by your absence is palpable. But I don’t only feel it on milestone days, I feel it every single day. It is the loss of those little everyday moments that hurt the most.

I miss driving down the highway with you. We didn’t have to say a word for miles, and suddenly you would reach over to grab my hand or my knee, giving it a loving little squeeze. We would just look at each other and smile, still not needing to say a word. Now, as I drive without you…. I can feel your warm hand on mine, squeezing.

I miss meal planning for you. I used to love to cook. I loved to find new recipes and watch you get all excited about trying something new. Our entire family would sit at the table together and critique the meal. Was it a make again? Were the seasonings off? Was this a one and done? Now, I dread to cook. Rarely are these teenaged girls of ours eager to sample anything that strays outside of the classic regular menu. Rarely do they even want to sit at the table together, something we did without question. And if I do make something new, and we actually do sit at the table, they often won’t eat it, and they won’t eat any of the leftovers.

I miss laying in bed and sensing the weight of you laying beside me. I even miss your snoring. Well, I actually miss the hum of your CPAP machine. While it’s nice to have our daughter’s 150 pound dog sharing the bed with me lately (and he even snores like you did) it just isn’t the same. I long to linger in bed on a weekend morning, each of us catching up on our reading. It isn’t the same without you.

I miss talking to you. I miss having someone around me who wants to hear what I have to say. Someone who truly cares about me and what is going on. We spent so much time talking, laughing, planning, and now I am alone. I’m alone from the moment my eyes open each morning until they close at night. I have to hold every thought in my mind, unable to share it with you. The weight of that burden becomes more difficult with each passing day.

I remember how much fun we had on our wedding day 30 years ago. I remember how much our cheeks hurt the next morning from the constant smiling. I remember how excited we were to start our lives together, and I wouldn’t change a moment of that life, except to have had you with me longer.

I watch older couples. I hear them talk of family get-togethers, of parents to visit, of retirement plans, and my heart twists and lurches from the overwhelming loss of that forever that WE were supposed to have. I see people your age who are healthy, alive, walking their daughters down the aisle for their own wedding, and I hurt that you aren’t able to do that because I know that you wanted to be here with us. Longer. Much longer.

Most of all, I miss just being with you. Seeing you hop into my office late on a Friday afternoon clapping your hands with a huge grin while saying, “Come one! Let’s get outta here!” I miss going out to dinner with you, I miss you telling me what adventures you want to go on so that I will start planning the trip. I miss camping with you, watching your pathetic attempts at starting the world’s worst campfire. But most of all, I miss just being with you.

Five years ago I made a video for our anniversary and said that I couldn’t wait for the next 75 years. We only got one more. It is so unfair. It is unfair to you, to me, to us, to our children, to our friends. And there is no getting over it.

Happy Anniversary, my honey.

I will love you ….. forever.

Kristyn