Six Months

Anita died six months ago today. Six months. It’s weird to say it. Is it weird to hear it? How could that much time have passed? I can recall that day like it was yesterday (not that I always want to).

I remember sitting at home a few days after she died and thinking to myself that I would one day be saying, “My wife died a week ago.” Then “My wife died two weeks ago.” Then three weeks. Then a month, two months, three months, six months, a year. Someday I would say those things. At that point, it didn’t seem plausible that time would pass. It seemed to stand still – yet it didn’t. Now “My wife died six months ago.”

What has changed in my life? Everything. Nothing. I live in the same house, sleep int he same bed, love the samekids, associate with the same people, cook the same foods (when I cook, that is), attend the same school functions, shuttle the kids to the same activities. But it’s not the outward that has changed, it’s the inward. The recurring loneliness. The struggle against life overwhelming me. The struggle just to keep my cool and be a parent. 

It’s quieter now. No hour long talks. No late night talks. No phone calls or coffee breaks with Anita.

The holidays don’t seem to stop. It started with Halloween and continued with Julia’s birthday, Peter’s due date, Anita’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Ben’s birthday, Christmas, New Year’s and now and endless stream of ridiculous holidays (Groundhogs Day, Valentine’s Day, President’s Day) with Penny’s birthday thrown it. And oh how I look forward to Mother’s Day, my birthday, father’s day, 4th of July – do the holidays ever end?!  

My mom sent me some photos of Anita that she just found from Thanksgiving 2002. In Grand Island, Nebraska, Julia was only one (looking like Penny) and Ben was two. Such a happy time.

I have learned a lot about Anita in the last six months from all of her writings, journals and comments from her friends old and new. Most revealing to me were the things I learned aboutAnita before I met her, in middle and high school. Anita rarely talked about that time in her life withme, but my image was that of a mean girl – attack before you are attacked and shield your feelings with a stone wall. She was cheerleading captain – I drew some stereotypical conclusions.

In fact, it seems she was opposite that. Thoughtful and wise, exceptionally smart but modest, outgoing and involved in not only cheerleading but yearbook, the school newspaper and the school musical. More than one of her high school classmates told me that she said something profound to them that really shifted the way they thought. Amazing us still, huh?

I also found a trail starting with the death of her friend Heather in their junior year, a friend she had grown close to as they shared all of the above activities together. Heather died in a car accident, in a car that Anita very well might have been in, and Anita was by accounts the last person to speak with Heather.

Her stories and poems for the following years had themse of death and loss. When I met her, she was always planning for that day, that possibility, when she might be gone herself. Honestly, I don’t know anyoenwho talked about it more than she did. She was very much aware that we are not guaranteed a long life and that when our time comes, we had better be ready – both in spirit and in having our worldly affairs in order.

Anita left her family in a great worldly order – obviously to ease the struggle as we struggle with the pains of loss. And even she knew that life moves on. What will me life be six months from now? Different. The same. The way life always changed and always stays the same.

 I will continue to reveal and share Anita’s love and life with the world. There are still many inspirational things that I have found and words her friends have sent me that I have not had time to share. She is gone but she is with us forever in our hearts and memories. Never forget Anita’s love.