3 years of widowhood

Today marks 3 years since I said my final goodbye to my James.

I woke up at 4:45am like I did 3 years ago, except this time i wasnt getting ready for work at dennys. I have today off by a pure fluke of daycare being closed for a conference. I remembered what day it was and I went back to bed until 9. Ever the one to procrastinate as much as possible, lol.

My mom reached out to me and checked on me. How am I? I'm irritable, tired (even with the extra sleep) raw. Im still pissed at how he died. Im still mad that my family had to lose him and horrible people are walking the earth in perfect health. Im still so fucking sad.

Im stronger now than I was 3 years ago though. I realize what's important and what is distraction. And even though I wish I was in an alternate timeline where James and I celebrate June 13th as the day he turned a corner and made a miraculous recovery... I am stuck in this timeline. And in this timeline I buy myself flowers that James would have bought me. I cry. I listen to lamb of God and nirvana and Alice in chains and I remember. I make chicken enchiladas for dinner and I stay sober.

And the next day just like the 1,096 before I will get back to my new normal of showing up.

Im showing up tired

Im showing up grieving

Im showing up imperfect

Im showing up the best that I can.

Im showing up learning, and showing up to keep living since James was taken way too fucking early at 36 years old.

I love you and miss you. ❤️