I am looking at seven whole years post-loss square in the eyes.

The way time moves, ten years will be here before I know it. Soon, our daughter will have lived without a father for longer than she had one. Not far beyond that, I will have been widowed from him, for longer than we were together.

My Facebook Memories with him are buried halfway down the feed, now. There are more memories without him than with him. Still, though, sometimes for a brief second, I feel like I need to tell him something.

Then I remember.

I know I can still talk to him, but he’s no longer here to enjoy some gossip or a juicy little tidbit with me – nor has he been for nearly seven years. 

It takes the human body anywhere from 7-10 years to replace every cell in the body, and now most of the cells that are in my body are cells that were never even anywhere near him. It’s like I’m this whole other person who never even knew him.

Sometimes the thought of that kind of distance is helpful. The pain of his death stings a little less. I can function normally, instead of being consumed by grief and trauma.

Still other times, though, the distance actually hurts, because I’m so far removed from the time when he was a part of my life.

I just celebrated my 50th birthday – something he never saw. Something I never saw was me celebrating this milestone birthday as a widow, back in the small NE Oregon town I lived in before I moved to be with him! I always thought we’d be living out our golden years together. I always hoped and prayed that age would mellow him, but now we will never know.

I wonder just how different another seven years will be…

Whatever they may bring, one thing is for certain: they will go by fast, just like these last seven years.

And all I can do is try to fill them with as much joy and happiness as I can so that when I look back I will know that I did all I could to not let this one thing define the rest of my life.

Here’s to the next seven.

Image via BingAI

 

 

 

About 

Layla Beth Munk is a blogger & author who was thrust into this widowhood journey abruptly and tragically on February 11, 2018. Her husband of 12 years had ended his pain once and for all. She soon made the decision that she would not let his final decision define the rest of her life or their daughter’s life, so with her sense of humor at the helm, she started writing about her newfound station in life. Grief waves still get to her, and probably always will, but with the help of her fellow widows as well as friends and family, she has been able to realize her dream of becoming a published author! Layla is so grateful to Hope For Widows Foundation for providing this level of support to her, and so many others! Layla has two amazing children, one who is grown and one who is almost grown. She lives in eastern Oregon and has a wellness & beauty background. Layla enjoys writing poetry, watching anime, and homeschooling her daughter.

Her blog can be found at laylabethmunk.medium.com and her debut novella, 24 Hours in Vegas, is available on Amazon.