18 months today

Today it is a year and a half of widowhood. The first year, I knew every month and hated every 28th, but since March, the day had gone largely unnoticed and certainly not commemorated. Heck, for the first six months, I knew how many weeks had passed each Sunday.

So this one is different than the last several months, and it hurts a little more. I don't know why. Ironically, maybe it is partly because I am happily dating someone right now. There is always a sense at some point in a relationship for me when I am just pissed that I am having to be in this dating place again.

I have been watching the first season of Everwood again, and they really do a tremendous job of writing in that show. It is simply amazing stuff, and it was Becky's favorite show, and we so enjoyed it together. Maybe that is also part of me missing her more this month than in prior ones.

But whatever the reasons, it has weighed heavy on me the last couple of days in particular. Certainly during Sunday school. Of course, we were discussing the beatitude, "Blessed are they that mourn, for they will comfort and be comforted." (My translation - the word comfort in Greek and in Latin implies both being comforted and doing the comforting, and our translation leaves out half of the blessing.) It is related to being the only dad at the birthday party Katie went to on Sunday. All of the rest of the dads were home watching football or doing whatever they do, and I got to be out at the party hitting on the moms. But I couldn't help reflecting that if Becky were here, I would have been home watching football while she and Katie went to the party, and that I would be the one missing out.

Thursday is the first parent-teacher conference. Yet another thing I would gladly have let Becky do. I hope it is productive and not just a love-fest for how amazing Katie is. Of course she is amazing; she is her mother's daughter. But I hope I come out with ideas about how to be a better dad and a better assistant to her education. There is certainly room for improvement; isn't there always?

Eighteen months. The last six months have passed more quickly than any individual month of the first twelve. 2004 lasted seventeen years, and 2005 has been back on a more normal pace, whatever that means. I don't know what this pain is today; it is certainly not the gut-wrenching horror of the first weeks and months. Maybe it is just grief the companion now, and a smaller wave just to let me know it is still here with me.

I miss you, sweetie. Differently than before, but as much as always. I love you.