Dare I say it?

Dare I say that I am beginning to wonder if John was just a figment of my imagination? I have become so complacent in my widowhood that I sometimes wonder if he even existed. Yes, his side of the bed is now occupied by our dog. And I am quite sure that John is rolling in his grave, or urn possibly, at that fact because our little poochie was not allowed on the bed. But, I just couldn’t sleep alone at first. So, I started to let the doggie in bed with me. Then it turned into a nightly habit. So now, my best friend sleeps in John’s side of the bed. So, his side of the bed is not empty….

He is always the last thought when I fall asleep at night, always. But, he is no longer the first thing that I think of when I wake up in the morning. And I hate that. I hate that John is not the first thing on my mind anymore. Some mornings he is, but not every morning like he used to be.

I am reminded of him when I look at pictures and wonder where he is. It takes me a minute to realize that he is dead. But, sometimes when I look at pictures of him, I have to wonder to myself if he was real or just a wonderful dream? Life goes on, who knew at the end of 2009 I would be sitting here without him thinking that he was just a dream?

Where do I begin?

I’m between 40 and 45 years old. And I shall be known as “Jane”. My husband “John” died in late 2009, he was just a few years younger than me. His death was actually sudden and very tragic. I can’t say how he died, just know that he went quickly. If it was a disease, it was quick from the time of diagnosis to his death, or it might have been a car accident. Just know that he went quickly, but certainly not peacefully, that much I am sure. I know because I was there when he died. I have decided to keep my identity and anything that identifies me secret because there are things that I may choose to write about that I would not want my friends and family to know about. But, I most certainly would like for my widow family to know, but yet, I still would not want them to know that it is me. I have done some things since my husband died that I am certainly not proud of. And I have done some things that I think that my husband would be proud of. I finally feel the need to put into writing what I have been doing, thinking, and feeling since my husband died.