Six is for stability. Pause. Balance and reflection. A crossroads.
I doubt it's coincidence that this is where I find myself on the sixth anniversary of Ghon's death. Where I still feel a range of emotion the week leading up to today. Remembering calling out sick so we can hike. Surgery day! But first, let's take a selfie! Never would have imagined that'd be our last picture together.
Interviewing for the job he never knew I would accept; a government position after years of trying.
A last photo shoot of his favorite muse; me.
Buying 6 wedding dresses for an unplanned photo shoot. I claimed 3 for trash the dress shoots, because he wouldn't let me trash mine. Shortly after, our final meal as a family of 4.
Six wedding dress, 3 to claim and now it's six years, I'm forty-six, he was forty-six when he died and there's just the three of us.
I cry a little less but the lump in my throat is just the same. Until I write about my feelings, and I sit here with tears streaming, snot running, and you see, grief - it's hard to swallow. I've grown used to daily life without a partner. The kids, well, they barely remember what it's like to have a dad. But on the anniversary of this week, I always pause. I reflect. I strive for balance.
Year six put me in the crossroad. An invitation to travel came months ago, and I turned it down to be here with the kids. I couldn't think to leave them home on anniversary and Father's Day weekend. We had plans to support local musicians and friends at a show to boot. The three of us, together. Then they ditched me. Nah, mom, we don't want to go. (Pre-teen years is an entirely different post.) They too, are in a crossroad. I encourage attendance in youth grief programs, and they still enjoy them, despite the grumbles I get before hand. They are becoming pros at grief therapy and life without Dad. Year six doesn't hit them as hard. They have moved forward in life without Dad.
Year six not hitting them so hard makes it easier AND harder on me. I question if I've done enough for them. Do I talk about Dad enough? Am I missing something in their grief journey? Do I smother them or give them too much freedom? While we all know Ghon could be a complete ass at times, I think about him daily and often miss him. Yet I too have moved forward.
We will be together in the morning. The kids will spend the afternoon and evening doing the things that bring them joy; as I will be doing the things that bring me joy, with Ghon on my mind all day, reliving every last hour of his life. Reliving that week, that day, it's what I do, and will likely do every year. While it feels really weird not spending the entire day with them, this is where we are now - this is our crossroad.
Come Sunday, Father's Day, the day I once had to tell my kids your Dad is not coming home, yes Dad died, we will spend together. We will eat Father's Day dessert so we can celebrate what once was, and the extra role I have to pretend to be.
I shouldn't have to count the years, but I do. Year six, you still bring tears. Yet when I pause and reflect, I'm proud of the kids and myself for how far we've come. I can't say what my life would look like if Ghon didn't die so unexpectedly six years ago. But I can say, without hesitation, that it would not look like this. Not better. Not worse. Just not like this. I have built a life without him, yet he's always with me, and always will be.
If you've made it this far, and you've known me (or Ghon) long enough, I ask the same as I do each year. Raise a bourbon or beer, and give the big man a toast. Not just to remember Ghon, but to honor your life and to living each day to your best. Love hard. Be grateful for what you have each day, for you never know when any part could be lost. And even then; you'll have something to look forward to from the crossroads.
