It feels like I became a widow yesterday. It feels like only 24 hours has passed since my young husband took his last breath, but it’s been six months.
At the same time, it feels as though I’ve always lived alone. It feels like Brady has been gone for years, but it’s been six months.
Time doesn’t affect my grief one bit. It’s almost deceiving. Yesterday, it felt like Brady’s life was a dream since it’s been so long since we’ve been together. Tomorrow, I may wake up and reach for him on his side of the bed, wondering where his body went in such a short amount of time.
My life has completely transformed in these past six months. I am now widowed, back in college, making new friends, and living in a pandemic. My life keeps changing, but so much is staying the same.
Days and months have passed, but my love for Brady has only grown stronger, and my grief for his loss has remained both consistent and unpredictable.
My heart is shattered today over Brady’s death. Even admitting that the man I love is dead brings intense sorrow to my spirit. And yet, I will choose to live with gratitude for the life God has given me.
Brady is no longer on this earth, but he has not vanished or ceased to exist. His soul now thrives in a way that I cannot understand, yet. On his mournful six month deathaversary (that happens to be Memorial Day), I can live with hope knowing that, eventually, I will see my love again.