If you’ve ever heard the song Over You by Miranda Lambert – specifically, the first verse and chorus – you have a really good idea of how my year has felt:
“Weather man says it’s gonna snow/ By now I should be used to the cold/
Mid-February shouldn’t be so scary/ It was only December, I still remember/
The presents, the tree/ You and Me
But you went away, how dare you, I miss you
They say I’ll be OK, but I’m not going to ever get over you”
And there it is, in less than 60 words. The song goes on to describe the grief of a woman whose husband has died. Truthfully, it would have been easier for me to move on had J died, and that might sound like a terrible thing to say, but at least I would have known that it wasn’t his choice to not be with us.
Christmas is less than two months away now, and I can remember Christmas shopping with him last year. I can remember rushing to try to get into our new home before Christmas. We moved in December 23. We had my parents and Nanny for Christmas brunch, spent time together as a family. We were trying for Baby number two. Our Christmas family photo was the image of a young, happy family. By mid-February, it was just a memory.
I felt like I’d never get past that hurt. It washed over me like a tidal wave, a tsunami of emotion that knocked me flat on my ass every minute of every day. I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t eat. Without F, I think I would have disappeared. The hurt is still with me today but it comes in little ripples, like when you drop a pebble into a pool of still water.
They were right: I got over him.