I was hungry. I knew I needed to eat, but my stomach protested at the thought and sight of food. It was my first week back to work and I could not focus. I hadn’t slept or eaten much since the funeral. Why do employers only give you a week to mourn? A heart cannot heal in seven days. You don’t love someone, build a life and raise children with them and then feel the loss for just seven days.
But, life has to go on. I can’t stay in mourning for the rest of my life. The kids are grown and out of the house. They have their children to take care of and jobs to return to. I am left with an empty house, an empty spot on the couch, at the dinner table, in our bed. I have memories, a constant flow of memories that make me cry. The scent of his cologne still lingers in our bedroom. His shoes are still by the door. I keep listening to the last voicemail he left me. He said, “Hey Lady, I’m just calling to say I love you. That’s all. I didn’t want anything. I love you, and I hope your day is going well.” It was a lunchtime call. I missed it because I was in a meeting. The accident happened during the evening rush hour. I was in traffic just a few miles behind the accident. That traffic jam changed my life.
So now, I have to get used to eating alone, watching TV alone, and waking up alone. I have to get to the point of not getting sick to my stomach at the realization that he isn’t coming home. Life goes on, and though I miss him, so must I.