1 Year.

Tomorrow will be the one year anniversary of my ex- husband’s passing.

I’m not sure how to feel about this. I mean, obviously, I am still deeply sadden, and his passing still continues to sit and haunt me.  I still hold some guilt about the chain of events, but the guilt does not lay as heavy with me as it once did.

There is not a day that goes by, and hour with in that day, where he does not cross my mind at least 50 times or more. I think due to the circumstances of his passing, it makes it especially hard to come to any sort of sense about it.  Still a lot of why’s.

I remember when i got the call from my dad, I was at work already having a crappy day, battling my boss over stupid petty shit.  I just started crying saying No, No, No, No.  I think i might have been yelling it, because all of my co-workers came over to see what I was getting all upset about.   I think everyone was in shock.  Disbelief.

How does one even prepare one’s self for this kind of thing?

I remember calling my dad back to try and get more of the details.  He said all he knew was what my ex-husband’s friend had told him.  That his friend was on his way to my ex- brother in laws to tell him the news.  I had figured I had better call my ex parent in laws, figuring that surely, they had already heard and to see if there was anything I could do.

It was already an awkward moment calling his mother, for her and I had not spoke in years, and while we were close during my marriage, during the separation and divorce, I pulled away out of fear that they would be mad at me.

They hadn’t heard yet.  I, unfortunately, was the one that told them.  Which made me feel like an even bigger asshole.  Not only did I leave their son, but now I was calling to tell them he was dead.


2 days ago would have been his 38th birthday.  2 days and a year ago was the last time I  heard his voice.  He sounded happy.  He had had a good birthday.  I was happy for him.

Thing may have not worked out between us, but it didn’t mean I didn’t still love him as a kindred soul.

It’s just . . . surreal.

He was a good soul who was just lost, and the fact that I didn’t try to do more, to help more, well, *sigh*  I dunno.  I realize you can only do so much for people.

I keep thinking about the dream I had.


Since that dream, I have been feeling a stronger sense of peace about his passing.  Like I said, it’s still a sad and tragic thought, but I break down less and less about it.

I told my mom about the dream, and she said that the reason he was growing older as I approached him, was that he was trying to tell me that he would always be with me, watching over me in this life.

That’s a nice thought.  Goddess knows, I can use all the extra looking out I can get.

I just hope where ever he is, he is happy.  He is at rest.  And he knows how much I truly do love him.


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