Its still hard to grasp my head around the idea that my husband has been gone three years. It seems like such a long time, looking at all the calendar pages which have been shed between then and now. And yet I can see, hear, feel, and even smell that day as though it were just yesterday. Yes, I know some of the details have faded, hidden by the clouds of grief and the passing of time. But the big ones still remain. And as the seconds on the clock turned over past midnight, they came flooding back as though it were only yesterday. Some things, I suppose, you never really forget, even if you try.
So much has changed in the world in the past three years. Even more has changed in Gavin's and my world. We are still the same people - Kurt's wife, and his son. But we are so different as well. With Gavin, the changes are obvious. He's walking. He's talking. He's no longer a baby... growing daily into a little man. But as I watched him this morning navigate the Columbarium with ease, heading directly to the place where his daddy's picture is kept, I realized how much more has changed in his world as well... changes that would never have happened had that fateful day been different. There is a quote I stumbled upon long ago that states the innocence of childhood disappears the day they are faced with the reality of death. Meaning my son lost that far beyond his time...
As an adult, I knew that people die. It was a deep seated fear of mine, but also a reality, that I knew I would outlive my husband. Somewhere far inside, I knew I would outlive him, bury him, be forced to say goodbye. But my innocence was robbed that day three years ago as well. Because while I knew it would happen, I never expected it to happen like that. I never anticipated becoming the young widow in the room. The one on the receiving end of the sorrowful glances and pitying eyes. I have heard "I am sorry" from strangers more times than I care to admit. And I never once believed they were actually sorry. They were glad it wasn't them. And they didn't know what to say... There is not a day that passes that I don't ask myself "Is this really real?" "How can this be happening to me?"
I've changed in other ways too - ways that I have mentioned many times over. I love harder. Live louder. I also live in fear - terror really - knowing someone else will be next...
I still often find myself looking at both Gavin and I and wondering what things would have been like if Kurt had survived. What he would have been like. What we would have been like. And while I know there is no way of knowing, and its really rather futile to imagine, I long for that looking glass so I can catch a glimpse of a future that never came to be...
Three years... I have accepted Kurt's death. That took a long time, but I no longer wait for him to come home, or think about why he isn't. But I do still admit to catching myself looking up at the clock come around 7:00, and thinking this was the tim he would have - should have - been walking through the door.
Three years... The scent has long ago vanished from the clothes he wore the final morning. But I do still admit to pulling them out from time to time and drawing in a deep breath. Sometimes I even catch wind of that familiar smell... Even though I know it is only a memory.
Three years... I no longer watch the public busses that drive by, expecting to see him in the familiar drivers seat. I no longer look at the bus numbers, wondering when the last time was he sat in that bus, wondering what bus we should be sitting in now. But I do admit to looking twice when I follow one home from work, giving a silent sigh to the driver up front, wishing it were someone else.
Three years... I no longer sob uncontrollably at the mention of his name. But I admit to many a public and private tear when my thoughts turn to him. When I am faced with the reality that he is gone.
Three years... People have come and gone out of my life. Driven away because they could not understand, or did not want to understand the depth of my emotions, the reasons behind my actions. Because they did not want a reminder of mortality. Because it was too much, I was too much. Because they thought they knew what they can never really know. But at the same time, people brought in because they were able to look beyond, to accept rather than understand. I have lost many good friends through this journey. But I have gained many too. And I value those who have not just stood beside my, but actually held me up in a way I don't think they even realize. I take nothing for granted...
And yet the more things change, the more they stay the same....
Three years... I still wear earplugs in the shower every morning, afraid of being brought back to that awful place with the simple sound of water hitting the shower floor.
Three years... I still reach my hand out to the passengers seat while driving, half expecting to find his lap waiting for m to rest my hand.
Three years... I still talk to him daily. Out loud, in private. Tell him about my day. About my fears, my hopes, my desires. And sometimes, deep within my heart, I swear he answers back.
Three years... I still love him like I have loved no one else. I still miss him with a feeling I thought was the stuff made of fiction.
Three years... Such a seemingly long time and yet, in the greater scheme of things, barely a second on the hands of time.
Three years... The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Three years... How have I survived this long without him?
I love you Kurt. Always Yours....
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