Four years

Steve died four years ago today.

This year the date of his death kind of took me by surprise. Every other year I've done the countdown remembering everything that happened beforehand.

Like how it was almost nine months before his death that he came home from a routine checkup with the diagnosis of cancer. One month before his death, that we had his family reunited under one roof. And two weeks before, that he was taken to the hospital where the doctor told us he wouldn't be coming back home. One week before when we made the decision to have him admitted to the hospice. That's when I learned that hospice meant where the terminally ill go to die. And the evening before when he held my hand while telling me how much he wanted to make love to me. I smiled and gently teased him while the tears ran down my face. The next day he was gone.

This is the countdown that I relive every year. The painful memories that  were so hard to bear in the beginning because that's all I could remember about Steve. Just the countdown. Not his easy-going smile that made me smile back.  Or the look in his eyes when he held Jacob for the first time. Or how speechless he became with the news he was going to be a daddy again to Teia. But worst of all, I couldn't remember how warm and safe I felt when he would hold me in his big, strong arms. Just the countdown to his death.

But four years is a long time to live with that grief and anguish. Time does heal. Time heals the raw, fierce suffering so that it becomes an ache that is easier to bear. I regret the future no longer possible for us but time allowed me the space to remember all the good things from a life and love shared. To be grateful for the memories made.

When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.  ~Author Unknown

I love you Steve and always will. You are my treasure.