One Year without Him

A few hours from now, at precisely 1:30 am on April 9th, it will be the first anniversary since my husband died. I still cannot believe that an entire year has past. In some ways, it’s like it happened yesterday, and the pain in my heart is just as fresh and deep. In other ways, I’m amazed at how far I’ve come.

The passing of time is a funny thing. It took me four months to get in the kitchen. For those four months, I bought prepared food. I lived on Trader Joe’s salads and beef stroganoff from the fresh meals section. I made sandwiches and got well-acquainted with the McDonald’s down the street.

Every time I tried turning on the stove, I broke down. Right before his death, my husband and I got on a diet that required me to cook each meal, lunch and dinner, right before we ate. I spent that last month before he went into the hospital preparing his meals, trying to make them as delicious as I could. I spent much time researching recipes and being inventive, so you can imagine how difficult it was to cook for myself after his death.I had a difficult time throwing out the jar of pickles in the fridge. I hate pickles, but Jamie loved them. I still cannot watch Hell’s Kitchen or The Apprentice. Those were “his” shows, shows we watched together, but shows which he got me into. On the other hand, shows which I got him into, like Survivor, was easier to watch, although, I cried through the credits of the first show. I watch the show and imagine what Jamie would say about Cochran’s immunity win last week, or about Phillip “The Specialist,” and Brandon’s meltdown this season

There have been fewer meltdowns, those times when I cry until I can’t breathe. The intensity and frequency has lessened, but they still happen. Certain songs make me sad. I can’t listen to Adele without remembering the first couple of weeks after the memorial.

It took me almost a year to clean out his car. I finally finished a couple of weeks ago, and now I’m prepared to sell it. But I cannot part with his clothes, and his beat up tennis shoes sit next to my front door. I have his collection of cars all over the apartment, and on my iPod, I have his funky playlists.

Jamie’s eclectic taste in music made for interesting playlists. Listening to his choice in music makes me feel close to him.

A sample of his YouTube faves:


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