The unbearable countdown until he dies


When the day comes,

What are they going to say?

Will they remember?

Will they care?

And how will I feel?


I feel like throwing a temper tantrum.

I feel like screaming my guts out
and stomping my feet
and flailing my arms
and letting everyone know just how damn painful it is to be me.

I feel the deep injustice that is losing a spouse.

I feel the deep despair of a future without BJ.

I feel the overwhelming sadness that I managed to live a whole year without him.


I’m sick of being misunderstood.

Sick of explaining myself.
Sick of defending myself.
Sick of canceling plans.
Sick of being moody.
Sick of grief.
Sick of pain.


I’m sad.

Sad because, of course, BJ died.

Sad because it seems like everyone misses him but also no one misses him.

And I’m scared.

Scared because money must be made.
Bills must be paid.
Futures must be forged.

I have to learn to live with the pain.

I have to live out more years without BJ.

I have to figure out how and what and where and when and if I should date.

I have to start from scratch.

I have to start life all over again.

My friends are getting big jobs and having weddings and babies and engagements and new homes.

But my world ends each and every day.

I’m living in reverse.

I don’t gain, I just seem to lose.

And whining doesn’t make me feel better.

Blogging doesn’t make me feel better.

Nothing takes away the gaping hole of loss.


And it’s almost been a year.

June 23
June 24
June 25

and then we’re there.

And he dies.

June 26.

My sweet husband dies.

June 26.

My world ends.

June 26.

My heart breaks.

June 26.

June 26.

June 26.

It’s coming.

It’s coming.

Oh God.