The good news (we always like to start with a little positivity, right?!): I am not dead inside. The bad news: Same. I am not dead inside. Now, before you flip your wad, know that I am mostly kidding. Of course I’m not dead inside but I can say that my emotions don’t run as high as they used to. Until the last few days, I can’t remember the last time I cried. I guess when your husband dies young, everything else seems a bit trivial and not really worth the pain.

I dropped my baby off at kindergarten today. Well, technically I dropped my baby off near kindergarten today because you can’t enter the school because Covid. I will preface this by saying that I am not one of those parents that generally gets emotional for the big milestones. It is my children’s job to grow and hit the milestones and I am here to be their biggest cheerleader and their biggest supporter. It doesn’t make me sad that they are growing up. That’s what they are supposed to do. I guide them, make sure they’re not assholes and one day, set them free to do whatever it is they are meant to do with the hopes that they do it well and with lots of love and kindness in their hearts. Except, apparently, when the baby goes to kindergarten, I am not emotionally equipped to handle that. I’m going to put most of the blame here on Ash (as I do with most things!).

If he were still here, we would be celebrating this day. We would have made big plans to do something amazingly fun today. We would have hopped back under the covers this morning (hey oh!), maybe we would have worked out together, he would insist we drive to Carova and look for wild horses or some such other touristy thing we generally don’t do. We would have had lunch out. I probably would have had a drink or 2 and we would have high fived that we made it, we did it, we kept another kid alive and now we get to enjoy one another for several hours in the day without being pulled in 27 different directions. We would have laughed and enjoyed the freedom. And it’s not to say that I won’t laugh today and enjoy my freedom, I will. It’s just not the same. And I think that’s what’s really getting to me. Also, to be wholly honest, I am also concerned that Colt may literally starve to death today. His metabolism is through the roof and he grazes. ALL. DAY. LONG. How will he survive with only one snack and one lunch?

We’re coming up on a year of no Ash. It’s hard to believe. It has been the longest and the fastest year of my life. I miss him all the time, of course, but when the big things happen, that’s when it hurts the most. So this morning, for a little bit, I’m going to hurt. I’m going to let my tears flow. I’m going to remember all the good we had. And I’m also going to be a little pissed off that all that good (and bad, we know there was plenty of bad) has been ripped away from us. That we have to cross these big bridges all on our own and pretend like it’s not hard or different or painful. Actually, we don’t have to nor do we pretend about anything so that was really a false statement.

Colt was perfect this morning. He was so excited to walk to school and go to his classroom. And Jack was the perfect big brother, carrying Colt’s backpack that was packed to the hilt with snacks and supplies therefore making it way too heavy for Colt to carry. Jack was going to walk Colt to class. I watched until they entered the building, Jack loaded down like a pack mule and Colt skipping and jumping the whole way, me letting the tears just roll down my frozen cheeks. He is going to do great. They are both so amazing and I realize I’m pretty biased here but damn did I get lucky with those 2. Having kids really is like watching your heart live outside of your own body. Dear God, maybe I should start drinking. I’m getting a bit ridiculous.

For now, I will embrace my sadness, I will curse Ash a bit and I will get on with my fucking day. Because life goes on and I choose to go on with it.