I don't like that it looms large on the horizon. I don't like that it carries a weight or significance greater than other days, and I can't decide if I have the power to undo that or if I should.
This will be the second trip around the sun without him. It was a different trip this time around. It was different for me. It was different for the kids. Some parts were easier. Some parts were deeper, heavier, and not what I expected. Every part was new and will always be new, I guess. It will be new because I have never done this before. I have never been a widow in Year 2, going on Year 3. Shit, I hope it will always be new. I don't want to be a young widow again. Once has been plenty. I'll settle for one version of that t-shirt.
So, I'm still trying to figure out how I want this Day to be for me and for the kids. I know I can't define it for them. I don't want to do that for them. I want it to be what they need it to be. I also want it to be what I need it to be. Hopefully, those two things will mesh together into something similar. Hopefully, I can be present enough for them and not overwhelmed by my own grief. Thankfully, I have a partner who loves us all in a way that gives us room to grieve when we need to and how we need to. We are truly blessed. He is incredibly selfless when it comes to his family, and we are his family.
Until the 18th, I'll be riding the roller coaster of not knowing, which is okay. I'm going to let my intuition guide me on this one. I have definitely learned that grieving isn't about doing what somebody else thinks we're supposed to do. And it's not about stages. If anything, it's fluid. So, I'll ride the wave and see where I end up. Maybe it will be a peaceful day; maybe I'll end up fetal on the shower floor. Whatever happens, it will be how it's supposed to be, and that's okay.
Life: It's not OSHA approved.