6 years, 72 months, 2190 days, 52,560 hours, 3,153,600 minutes, 189,215,800 seconds since you’ve been gone…and it still seems like yesterday. August. Ugh. The calendar turns over and so do my nerves. But it’s there. The month. And it’s full of anticipation. Reliving the moments. The joy. The laughter. Family. Together time. And then. Gone. Over. Life changed. In. A. Moment. Life doesn’t give you do overs. We all learned that. We were left standing. Empty handed. Empty hearted. We still are.
I write this tribute to Greg every year. Honor his memory. The words flow. Easy. From my heart. 2020? So different. My feelings? The same. Melancholy. Heavyhearted. Nostalgic. But. So are hundreds of thousands of other people. Families suffering with the loss of loved ones. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Sons. Daughters. Grandparents. Friends. How can I mourn alone when I know there are so many who share the same pain? Who will continue to feel the emptiness? I think about all of them. I want to touch. Listen. And say, “Somehow we make it. One minute. One day. One week. And suddenly. A year at a time. Breathe. Life may be different. That’s okay. But you can see love and beauty again.” I can honor Greg today. But I will not drown in the despair. I will share this moment with so many others. I will join hands and say, “we will survive.”
Memories. Social media flooded with photos. Year after year. Travels. Happy times. Together. “Sometimes you will never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” August. A month of OUR moments. Family moments. Reminders of our life well lived. I embrace the moments. Value them as polished diamonds. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing can replace the moments. Memories. Embedded in my heart.
Greg taught me so much about life. But he taught me even more in his death. Death taught me “that tomorrow is real, and yesterday is no longer here. It made me realize that living inside my comfort zone means that I don’t appreciate life as much as I should. It taught me to respect my sunrises and sunsets. To dance when music is playing. To laugh at least two times a day and to say I love you even when I am mad at someone. Because at the end of this, nothing else will matter.” And we all learned that family is what matters. We are blessed. We have each other. Our family. A bond that will never break.
I love you. Our last words to each other. Standing on the beach that day. August 30th, 2014. I can still hear him. And I know he meant every one of those three simple words. Blessed. Truly. For nearly 39 years. We built a life. A family. A love. I’m grateful for what was. No regrets for what could have been. Our “happily ever after” may have ended that day, but we had the fairy tale. It just wasn’t long enough.
Life doesn’t give us do overs. Today is here. I am here. I miss Greg. He is in my heart forever. I have moments of sadness. Loss. Loneliness. But. I can’t stop. I must breathe. Live. I know that’s what he would want me to do. Want our children to do. Six years. Time will pass. It doesn’t stop. And neither should we. Forever grateful and blessed. #August30#timestoodstill#missyoualways#loveyouforever❤️