230222 539 Days

It has been 539 days since my Joyce passed away.

It has not been an easy time for me. I think about her every single day. I sleep in the same bedroom where we slept before her passing. There is only one bed in here now, when there were two before. Every night I think about that as I go to sleep.

I cook my meals in the same kitchen where she cooked, so I am reminded of that every day. I eat my meals in the kitchen as I face the living room where she had her naps every day.

The second bedroom, which was our office and where we spent our time listening to music and having our drinks, is now bare, so I stay out of there these days. I’ve tried to use the office at two different times, but again there are too many good memories in there for me to concentrate on my writing. When Joyce was still here, I would write my posts in the office and read them aloud to Joyce and she would always have the right suggestion on how to improve a post.

I’ve gone through the stages of sadness, grief, acceptance, but I still have the memories and they are a constant reminder. I don’t want to forget her and I won’t ever forget her unless I go mental and can’t even remember who I am, much less remember her. 58 years of us being together was a long time, just not long enough.

Joyce and her mother’s cremains are on a shelf in my closet, but their spirits are forever in my heart.