I’ve been fine for most of the day but, now that the darkness has come, the sadness weighs on my heart. Today is my would-be-28-year wedding anniversary. Yet, Tom has been gone for nearly 13 years so surely folks think that I should be over it by now. What’s more, I was dating someone else for 10 of those years. It just feels like nobody will understand…so I keep it to myself as much as I can.
To be frank, I want a glass of wine and good cry. I thought I’d be remarried by now. Happily. Instead, I am heartbroken once again and afraid to trust another with my heart again. A couple of weeks ago, Big Sis said that she was mad at me for not breaking up with him once it was clear that he wasn’t ever going to marry me. I was hurt and felt the urge to lash out at her. But, honestly, I am mad at me too.
I could sleep the night away. But I know that when tomorrow comes, the reliving of those final months before he died will continue to haunt me with Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday as key markers of points along the way that trigger me. If this annual torture isn’t enough, I now have to wrestle with my own mind, self judgement, and another layer of heartbreak. As I remind myself that although I am 10 years older, I am far from the “Old Maid” image in which I used to see when I looked in the mirror after the breakup. Some day, there will be another love in my life; I just hope that he doesn’t add another layer to this patter of heartbreak upon heartbreak.