I call bull shit. There are some wounds that will never fully heal, that constantly get cut back open and while the pain may not be as severe, it still hurts like a motherfucker. And while the pain may not be constant, there are times when it still feels soul crushing and world changing.

Apparently the Jones family took most of their vacations in January. I know this thanks to the wonderment and detriment that is Time Hop. And I love seeing all the fun (and not so fun) journeys that Ash and I took. With our kids. Without our kids (why was there so much less fighting when it was just the 2 of us? Ha!). With our kids and extended family. We spent most of Januarys in Florida, which makes sense because if they were anything like the January we are having now, we needed to get the fuck out of this arctic tundra (perhaps a tad over-dramatic and a teensy bit over-exaggerated). But it is also very difficult to see the life that we used to have and compare it to the life we have now; to think about what could have been and to live what actually is.

I’m a little moody today, so this may not be the most uplifting thing you’ve ever read. But in the words of Maroon 5, memories bring back memories. And the memories are trying to kill me. Today anyway. Someone recently told me that I was not sad anymore because my husband was dead, I could no longer use that as an excuse. That my pain is because I a am single (should I have pointed out that I am single because my husband died and that is quite sad? Maybe so.). And to a point, I sort of agreed. But I also don’t agree at all. I am, on the regular, a pretty happy person. I have 2 pretty cool kids, an amazing family and some of the best friends a girl could ask for. I am surrounded by love, real love, mostly. But I no longer have the one person I chose to spend my life with. And while that happens to everyone, every day, I can only tell you how I feel about it. Not that you asked, but here I am anyway. Marriage is hard. It is a choice every day to stay together and make it work. But there is nothing more comforting and secure (to me, anyway) than the relationship between husband and wife. My spouse knew more about me than anyone in the world, and he still chose to love me. He saw me at my worst, and he still chose to love me. He saw me make mistake after mistake after mistake, and he still chose to love me. And vice versa. I saw him. I knew him. I loved him. And to not have that anymore, to not have that ever again, it makes me feeling pretty fucking sad.

Today is one of those days where I am letting myself feel. I have looked at countless pictures from years gone by and I have cried. Ugly cried. Feel like I’m going to throw up cried. Pathetic? Yes. Necessary? Also yes. Because grief doesn’t stop. It changes over time. But it’s always there. There will always be times that make me feel like I can’t do it anymore, can’t go on anymore, unfortunately, because living without your spouse is fucking hard. Knowing that his life was cut so short, that he doesn’t get to watch his kids grow up, that we don’t get to live out all those fun retirement plans we had in mind, it makes me sad. Every time our kids do something amazing or stupid or mundane or crazy, he misses it, and it makes me sad. Every time I do something amazing (which is really like never) or stupid or mundane or crazy, he misses it, and it makes me sad. He will never do anything amazing or stupid or mundane or crazy again, and it makes me sad. So I’m going to venture to say that my husband’s death does still make me sad. And it’s not an excuse. It’s reality. Our lives were so entwined for so long. We created so much together. And now it’s all completely done. And it makes me sad.

It’s not an every day sadness. But I doubt it’s a sadness that will ever go away. I don’t think time heals ALL wounds. And one day, should I decide to share my life with someone or even get married again, I’m certain I will still have sadness regarding my dead spouse.

Am I sad sometimes? Yes. Is it more than 90% Ash’s fault? Fucking yes. Selfish prick.

There are also a lot of crazy c u next Tuesdays lurking around. And that makes me sad. If I start collecting cats, someone please put me out of my misery.