Countdown to the First Anniversary of My Husband's Death

Time keeps marching on—relentlessly. Passed nine months, and half way to ten months. I feel like I am in a Space Shuttle launch countdown sequence. Inevitable, inescapable, unavoidable, no turning back. At any moment the solid rocket boosters will fire up.

But wait a moment. Maybe they already have and that's why I am feeling so much again. Once, again and again and again and again, its the littlest things that dissolve me into grief. I thought the One Year Anniversary was The Event. But like everything else I've experienced, endured, gone through, participated (willingly or unwillingly) in I never really have the dual awareness of being in the moment and looking back. Is The Event the passage of time?

Surprise! The Space Shuttle has cleared the tower. Well that certainly accounts for the roaring in my ears and the earth rattling shaking. It accounts for feeling the g-force pinning me to my seat.

I've seen, read and hear it. The grief culture, the books, the counselors. Everything heralds the same line. First year is the hardest. The First Anniversary of His Death. A landmark. But then what?!?!

I have wondered for the longest time if I will be transported through a portal at the First Year Anniversary. I mean will I wake up the day after and find life. Find everything changed? I now see at the First Year Anniversary I will be in free fall. Zero Gravity.