Even the significance behind numbers has changed. He passed away on December 23rd (2023) at 1:30 pm. Today it’s October 14th (2024), 8:30 am. It’s been 295 days, 18 hours and 30 minutes. The 23rd of every month is marked on my calendar. It’s not like I’m going to forget, I guess it’s because I’m keeping count.
Why do we keep count? Why do we listen to songs that make us cry? Why do we go places where we were together? Some may say that it’s not healthy, that I should only do things that make me happy or at least less unhappy.
I do a lot of that, things that make me less unhappy. I go to work every day. I go to the gym every day. I shop, I eat, I try to sleep. But the fact that he is not there, that emptiness cannot be filled. I come home to an empty house every time I leave it. Some days it’s easier than others.
I’m so grateful for my daughter and grandchildren, for my sister and niece. They check up on me every single day, some days several times a day. I’m grateful that his daughters check up on me, too. He would have liked that. I’m grateful for all my friends who send me encouraging messages, for the ones who are there every day even though they may be far away.
But back to the numbers, it will soon be a year. Just before Christmas. What a time to have left me! Esther and I joked that it was his way of telling us we would never forget him. As if!
As that horrid commemoration approaches, I feel I’m more lost than I was the day I held his hand for the last time. My guiding light is gone, so I have to make my own light. At times, I feel it’s coming back, but others I feel like it’s left me once again. I’m aware that it is the journey I have to go through. It’s one of the toughest things I’ve had to do. We’ve all been through ups and downs, divorce, illness, separation, work issues, but after this, everything pales in comparison.
I know I have to move on. I know I have to get through this. I know I will get through this, but on my own terms, in the ways that make me recover who I was, and who I now am. The person that I will be for the rest of my life, not just Barrie’s widow. I’ll be his widow forever and for always and those couple of days, yet, I will also have to be the new version of me that has to live without him.
About Carmen Medina
Carmen is a 65-year-old widow who is living in Spain. She was born in Vancouver, B.C., Canada to Spanish parents. Since 2019 she has been living in Antequera in the south of Spain. She was married to Barrie Eggington, her soul mate and love of her life till he passed away on December 23rd, 2023, after a long battle with lung cancer.
Thanks to Hope for Widows, which she found online just a few weeks after his passing, Carmen found a group who not only understood what she was going through when few others did, but also solace in her sisters in grief, a place where she could express her feelings and find the resonance she needed.
Carmen has been an English teacher and teacher trainer for over 30 years in Europe, the Middle East and North America. She still teaches English and is the principal at the government funded language school where she is currently working. She spends her time with her daughter and grandchildren. She goes to the gym every day, loves the beach, particularly Torremolinos where she reminisces about the time she spent there with her late husband.