They say a pictures worth a thousand words. This photo was taken at our son's junior high graduation. We looked like any other family, waiting in the hot summer sun to catch a glimpse of your beautiful boy walking down the isle to get his diploma.
Two hours after this photo was taken I made my first 911 call after Ron collapsed with shortness of breath and chest pains. Ambulances and firefighters where swarming our home and Ron was taken to the nearest hospital. I drove away and glimpsed my son staring after us with tears running down his face. There would be no graduation celebration for this family on that day. Ron survived this episode but it became our lives for the next 22 months.
Tomorrow March 22nd will be 2 years since I lost my husband. The grief is not as raw as year one, but you are expected to be "over it" by now. I am expected to be "moving on". Very few remember this date or understand why I'm quiet, sensitive and moody. I've learned to hide my grief away in the privacy of my home, behind a locked door.
I can't write about quilting today, I'm grieving, I'm remembering and I'm missing...him.
|Our first Christmas 1988|