How do you measure a year? What does time mean? These are questions I’ve been asking myself recently. On May 6, 2006 my life as I knew it came crashing in around me in a split second. A police officer, questions, detectives, a medical examiner reading a note, a distraught child at your side, a call to another child out of state, calls to family, a stepchild, friends, a priest, a crematory. A funeral to plan years before I ever dreamed I’d need to.
Lately I find myself with a song in my head that I’ve always loved because it talked about the seasons of love, but now it means something completely different. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure a year? How DO you measure a year, and what does it mean?
For me it has meant the “first” of everything: an anniversary, his birthday, my birthday, holidays, special anniversaries that only held meaning for the two of us, visits to places we once visited together. It has meant no one to share special moments with, no one to greet you when you walk in the door, no one walking in the door for you to greet with a hug and a kiss and a “how was your day”, no one to talk with about the world events and politics going on each day, the cell phone doesn’t ring with his number showing anymore, the text messages throughout the day saying “I love you” or “I miss you” are no longer there, the flowers he sent once a week are gone, the little “thinking of you” gifts and notes are no more. I miss holding hands in the movie theater, holding hands while walking down the street and kissing at the street corner while waiting for the light to change, the laughter and the smiles, the little sayings and habits. I miss waking up and saying good morning and going to sleep saying goodnight. I miss hearing “I love you” and I miss being held by the one I loved. I miss the daily poems he wrote for me and the songs we shared. Now I hear the songs and some days I cry and some days I smile and feel the warmth.
My life changed a year ago and my heart hasn’t felt the same. In the past year I’ve learned that I have a new way of life. New friendships have entered my life that I would not have, had my husband not died. I’ve become active in organizations that I never knew existed a year ago. I’ve relied on my friends and family in ways I never have in the past and without them I honestly don’t know where I’d be today. I wish my life hadn’t taken the road that it took 525,600 minutes ago, but at the same time I’m grateful and forever indebted to the friends and family who walked me through each one of those minutes. It hasn’t been easy but I’ve made it and I will continue. And hopefully I will be able to help another person who right now is wondering how they will make it through their next minute and the half million still to come.
As I try to make sense of the past year and try to understand what a year even means, I will do as the song says: “525,600 minutes, how do you measure a year…how about love…remember the love…measure in love.”
In memory of my husband, John
December 30, 1953 - May 6, 2006
This is a post that was moved from a previous site. These comments were posted to the other site: Cheryl Kaye Tardif... said...
I feel for you, Karen. I can feel the love you have for your husband. He was blessed, as were you, to have each other. Even for a short time.
When things seem darkest remember this: there is always light at the end of even the darkest tunnel. And with light comes hope.
Your friend,
Cheryl Kaye Tardif
Beautiful post, Karen.
And you know that the loved one dies but the love does not die.
Your strength and devotion shine through every word of this. Heartbroken and inspiring words.
Your friends at PALINET are thinking about you and hoping for peace in you life.
Your words and the photos of John brought so many memories back for me...what a beautiful person. I miss him.