20. 5 Years: Half a Decade: 1,825 Days

Theodore Roosevelt (on the death of his wife):  "The light has gone out of my life."
~February 14th, 1884


Me (to Jon):  "Baby, no matter how long I live, you have to promise that you'll live one day longer so I never have to go a day without you."
~Date unknown

~Jonathan David Grassbaugh:  August 18th, 1981 - April 7th, 2007~

Today marks 5 years of doing that very thing I said I'd never want to do.  5 years.  Half a decade.  1,825 days of living without Jon.  For how long it feels on days like today, it might as well be a lifetime.


I miss my husband so much that it physically hurts.  My only consolation in overcoming the physical pain is that the mind, cruel though it might be at times, works in mysterious ways to remind us of the things we thought were lost forever.  Over the past few weeks of intensive grief processing, I've added to the list I thought I finished a few years ago of Jon and I's memories - the list includes everything from silly things he'd say to make me laugh to trips we took and songs we sang.  It's my way of making sure I don't forget the things I treasure most in case my mind ever does fail me and, with it, I lose the memory of his laugh or the sound of his voice.  Some of the memories that have come back to me make me smile...others bring me to tears.  Some of them have surfaced at the oddest times, like in the moments of half-consciousness before I wake up in the morning or in the middle of a conversation about something entirely unrelated.   I like to think of them as small gifts from Jon, as if he were right here looking over my shoulder, telling me, "hey, babe, don't forget about that time..."


There have even been moments where I swear I can feel his presence, like the other morning while I was out walking my dog, Nicki - as I passed one of the trees in my neighborhood that recently sprang into bloom, hundreds of little white petals blew over me in a sudden gust of wind.  At the same moment, I looked up toward the horizon and caught a glimpse of the rising sun, still warm and full and glowing in the early morning sky.  It was absolutely beautiful - I literally got chills.  It's moments like that when I think to myself, "that's Jon.  He's still here."


Two days ago, on what was "Gold Star Wives Day," Jon surprised me with another incredible gift.  I'm usually so obnoxiously neat and tidy that I always know exactly where to find everything in my house.  But while I was reorganizing a closet in my office, I came across several SD storage cards that I thought had nothing on them...until I discovered that one of them contained not one but four mini videos of Jon during his R&R at Christmas of 2006.  I'm talking about 10 whole minutes of video of Jon walking and talking and smiling that I didn't even know I had.  I literally ran around my house like a crazy woman, laughing like a hyena, and yelling "thank you, Jon!  Thank you, God!!"  48 hours later, I'm still flying high on the joy I felt at having found those videos - during a week that is usually so miserable, they were exactly what I needed.  And I have no doubt that Jon knew it too.

Jon and his co-workers on 7 April, 2007, approximately 1 hour before Jon's truck got hit

One night long ago when Jon and I were snuggled up together on the couch watching TV and flipping channels, we came across a program that was still relatively new at the time but has since achieved critical acclaim:  Baghdad ER.  The episode featured a Soldier who had been severely injured in Iraq, so much so that he had to have both arms and both legs amputated.  Jon told me if anything like that ever happened to him that he'd want me to let him go because he couldn't live like that.  Selfishly, I told him I could never do that.  If his mind and whatever remained of his body still functioned, even at a bare minimum, I told him there was no way I could make the decision to let him go.  There are many moments now when I wonder what might have happened if things had turned out differently 5 years ago and he'd lived...but barely.  What would I have done if confronted with that impossible choice, knowing full well what he wanted?  I wasn't forced to make that decision - maybe that's a blessing.  But to have seen his face just one more time or touched his hand while there was still life flowing through him...that would have been the most beautiful blessing of all.


5 years without you, baby.  5 years since I lost the love that made life worth living.  Oh, how my heart aches for you - I miss you with every single fiber of my being.  On the day of our wedding, the minister quoted the mystic poet Rumi, who once said that, "the minute I heard my first love story I began looking for you, not knowing how blind that was.  Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other’s souls all along.”  Jon, you may be physically gone, but you are in my soul as you always have been, and there you will always stay.  And as I vowed to you on that day before our friends, family, and God, "I will love you and only you, now and forever."  The days here on earth without you may be long, and they may be hard...yet, every day is one step closer to being with you again for all of eternity.  Always and forever, my love.