I find it strange and unbelievable. Jon will have been dead 92 days on Sunday, and although I knew it was coming, I kept thinking I had another week. Officially three months to the date by Calendar, and two days beyond three months by count.

But my body and mind have told me otherwise.

I don’t understand the phenomenon, but in the week before that stupid date hits, I fell like I’m under a magnifying glass, and God is aiming the sun in my direction.  I’m remembering minute details about the moments before and right after he died. I’m remembering what he said to me before, and how I actually started to panic before I found my cellphone, or how I said “No…don’t go to sleep, honey. Wake up – lets take a shower.”

Yes, I actually said that.

He fell backwards on to our bed, with Weslee to his left, still asleep. “Ugh, I’m gonna pass out”, he said, and put his hands to his head. He closed his eyes and started to snore. His arms fell slack at his sides, and I said “Ok.”

And then I tried to wake him up. I still can’t believe that he didn’t wake up. I shook him and called his name.

And then I think I screamed. I woke up Weslee and she screamed with me, scared and confused out of sleep.


I’m tired of thinking of that morning, but it is as clear today as it was three months ago. I can’t believe I’ve been living the worst nightmare I can imagine for the past three months. I’m sure there are worse nightmares, but I have not imagined them.

And when this day comes up, I’m starting to see a pattern. I relive that day, along with all the days after it, a week before. It’s as if my subconscious knows time better than I do, and feels the need to warn me. To remind me that my life REALLY SUCKS RIGHT NOW.

And it really does.


Three months. I still need you, Jon. I still miss you. I still love you as much as I ever did. And I still wish you were here before I wish anything elseIt doesn’t matter what I do with the rest of my life…it just doesn’t feel the same without you in it.