It's the 11th of the month again

Damn, why does the 11th have to happen every month? Can I start a petition to have it totally removed from the calendar?

Today marks 7 months since the worst day of my 37 and a half years. And to top it all off - it's raining.

A couple of times I have gotten halfway through the 11th without even realizing it was "the" day...the...anniversary? (There must be a better word to use in place of that. After all, aren't anniversaries supposed to be happy occasions?) And this time thing. I can't really explain it. If you've experienced a similar tragedy you might understand. On one hand, I can't believe it's been over half a year since Chuck died. On the other, it feels like it's been 7 decades since I last saw him, touched him, kissed him, and so on. I say that so often but it boggles my mind.

I remember in the beginning, when I first started connecting with other widows (I still hate that word and the connotations that go along with it), I couldn't imagine being as far out as they were. I wondered how it would feel to not be in that raw phase of early grief. (Some would say that I am still in that phase.) I couldn't imagine being at 2 months or 4 months. And 6 months? God it would certainly feel like a lifetime before I would be at that point!

But here I am...7 months later. Some things have changed a lot. Some things are still very much the same. One thing that is constant is that my grief evolves and transforms into something different every single day and I never know what tomorrow will bring. In the beginning, I went back and forth between wanting to hole up at home and desperately wanting to get out into the world and distract myself. It was a very frantic feeling. Now for the last few months I've calmed down considerably. I get out every now and then. Mostly I'm content to stay home and interact with a few people that I'm closest to. I can sit quietly and relax without getting overly depressed. I don't have an urgent need to escape all of the reminders I'm surrounded by at home.

December was a difficult month. I had to go through the first 11th of the month, Christmas, Chuck's birthday and New Year's Eve. When I look back now it is all a blur and I'm still amazed that I got through it all. Of course, I'm pretty sure I was still in complete shock at the time. I anticipate this December being much more difficult. But June, this month, could possibly be the toughest month of all. Our wedding anniversary, Father's Day and our annual (much anticipated) week without the kids at the end of the month. Just like December, I will get through it.

One thing I've learned is that the days I anticipate being the hardest usually pass by pretty smoothly. It's the ones I don't prepare for that tend to hit the hardest. So maybe June won't be so bad after all. What do I know though? I've never been through this before. I can glean advice from others who have gone before me but everyone travels their own path...in their own way. There is no one-size-fits-all manual. I'm learning as I go. Sometimes I fight it, kicking and screaming every step of the way. Other times I realize I am grasping the concept of quiet acceptance. I am trying to go through the healing process with as much grace as possible.

So, yeah, today is the 11th. It will pass by and roll into the 12th. Will I miss him any less on the 12th than I do today? No, I'm quite sure I won't. So it really is just another day on the calendar. It's just another day that I have to live without him. It's also another day I can take all that I have learned by loving him...and losing him...and apply it to my life. This experience can either make me a better, more loving and stronger person...or I can allow it to make me hopeless, depressed and bitter. I can't remain neutral through it. That's not possible. So I must make a choice. Today, on June 11th, I choose to honor his memory by remaining positive. After all, he loved me because of my kind, caring and gentle ways. Why would I want to be a different person than the one he loved so much?