The Moments We'll Never Have

We’ll never grow old together.

He won’t be there to offer words of wisdom during life’s monumental moments.

He won’t walk our children down the aisle on their wedding days.

He will never meet his grandchildren, never hear the word “Poppy” spoken with excitement and love.

So many moments, big and small, have been stolen.

From him. From them. And from me.

Sometimes, I find myself doing just fine, laughing with friends and loved ones, moving through life with grace and strength. Then, without warning, something will trigger me and crash into me like a wave, and suddenly, I’m back where I was nine years ago:

Sad. Scared. Worried. Lonely. Afraid. Angry.

Grief is like that. It doesn’t follow a schedule. It lives with you, tucked in the corners of everyday life, waiting to remind you of what’s gone.

I am surrounded by so much love, so many try to help fill the void. And I’m so grateful. But no matter how many people are around, there is a certain loneliness in being a widow that only another widow can truly understand. It’s the making decisions alone, always wondering what he would say. It’s the missing person at every family event. It’s a permanent void in our lives.

I carry this loss every day, not because I dwell in the past, but because the love we shared was real. And when something real is taken, its absence leaves a permanent mark.

I keep going. I keep living.

But I’ll always carry the weight of the moments we’ll never get.