156 weeks, 1,095 days, 26,280 hours

Today marks three years since Charlie died from ALS.  THREE years.  How long is that when you think about it?  156 weeks, 1,095 days, 26,280 hours… 

Yet, it’s the first anniversary DAY of his loss that hasn’t been spent occupied with spreading as much love and laughter as he brought to our lives.  Because today is Saturday.  We did that yesterday at ALS Therapy Development Institute.  That’s our thing.  That’s what we do.  (Although this was Grace’s first time to participate since she had the day off from school…)

She enjoyed it.  She helped me feed a hard-working research crew breakfast and lunch and give them “surprises” designed to make them smile or laugh or anticipate Fall holidays.  And she played some really crazy form of ping pong.  (Suffice it to say, a lot of people were ducking to avoid being hit…)

In a way, it’s fitting that the sequence is playing out as it is.

The hurt is not as fresh, although it’s always there, a dull ache in the innermost reaches of my being.  But finding ways to help others, bring joy to others, finding ways to lift up and “pay it forward” has most certainly helped me on my path toward healing these last three years.

But today will be a first “on my own.”

What will I do with today?  Hmmm.  The possibilities, I suppose, are endless.

But I’m pretty sure…I’m going to clean my house.  It needs it.  And my dogs need a good, LONG walk at a park where they can run and play.  My daughter has a babysitting gig tonight.  I need to do some laundry that doesn’t require a working clothes dryer. 

So, I guess what I’ll be doing today is living an everyday life.  Taking care of business.  And that feels…like relief.

If that seems weird, I guess I can expound by saying – these last few years have been hard.  It is not easy starting over.  It is even harder starting over from scratch. 

And when you are hit with a combination of “widow’s brain” and “traumatic menopausal brain” simultaneously?  It is excruciating. 

But even in the trifecta of all that yesterday…I saw a glimpse.  Or maybe, it’s better said that I “felt” a glimpse.

There were moments where I felt more “me.”

I felt a calmness that’s been lacking in my soul the last several years.  I felt random sparks of confidence that spoke to a future I didn’t fear and could accept.

I felt the first, few fledging nudges of anticipation at that.

It’s been three years.  Yet, I know I have at least a couple more in front of me before I will feel I’ve truly found my footing.  And I can’t imagine how odd that will be…the place where I will find myself mentally, physically, and emotionally.  But, hallelujah, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

My book, Finding My Reflection, went live last night.  It is my hope that it has a positive impact within the world of loss.  That world is large…and consuming…and horrifically broken.  But I also hope it helps the UNbroken…the ones who don’t know what they should value today because they’re constantly living for tomorrow.

It is very hard to try to put broken pieces back together.  It is.

But if my story helps you feel less alone?  Prevents you from having as many broken pieces?  Then, it made a difference.  My life with Charlie made a difference.