Five years later, I can’t believe he’s been gone only five
years. It seems like forever since I
heard his voice.
Five years later, I can’t believe it’s been five years. It seems like just yesterday that I woke up
to this nightmare.
Five years later, I miss him as much as I did the first
morning after.
Five years later, I know that when I told him I could not
live without him, I was wrong. I
can.
Five years later, I would give every dime I have if he could
join the boys and me for dinner just one more time.
Five years later, I still know when he’s here.
Five years later, he’s selective on when he visits us. He knows our lives have moved forward.
Five years later, my sons are happy most of the time.
Five years later my 11 year old’s greatest wish is to have
his Dad back to warm up with before a game.
Five years later, my 7 year old’s greatest wish is to know
what it’s like to have a Dad.
Five years later, I still have his dog, who is 16, and who I
know he wants back.
Five years later, I still have his black NorthFace vest in
my closet.
Five years later, his watch still goes off at 7am every
morning from inside the drawer of my bed stand.
I like to think he’s saying Good Morning.
Five years later, I can still feel his hand on the back of
my neck.
Five years later, I am in a relationship with someone else
and there are times I feel that he was handpicked by him.
Five years later, the stuff that was important to me before,
no longer is.
Five years later, our house finally feels like a home.
Five years later, it does not make me want to cry when I
tell the hostess we need a table for three.
Five years later, the pressure of being the only provider
for the boys still keeps me up at night.
Five years later, I still worry. A lot.
Five years later, I still love his Mom like my own.
Five years later, the boys and I have a lot of fun.
Five years later, I know how lucky I am to have married
someone who made me sleepless the first night I met him and who never stopped
being my best friend.
Five years later, I still have a lot of pictures of him
around our house but I keep the ones of just the two of us in a private place.
Five years later, I am still very angry and still use
running to quiet the rage.
Five years later, I still sleep with a bat under my bed and
pity anyone who puts me in a situation where I would need to use it.
Five years later, I still have the same incredible friends
who support me.
Five years later, I have new friends in my life, some who
never knew Gordie or the old me.
Five years later, I am a much better person.
Five years later, I have my edge back, after losing it the
first year after he died.
Five years later, my sons are the strongest people I
know.
Five years later, I still could not do this without my
parents who set the bar for parenthood.
Five years later, I don’t cry everyday anymore.
Five years later, the boys and I have learned how to live
life without him.
Five years later, I watch my sons sleep and feel an emotion
that I cannot put into words.
Five years later, I am still running through grief.
