Nineteen Months

I was talking with a fellow widow when she made the observation how we measure death like children.

First we talk about how many days out we are.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn into months.

Right now I still measure my widowness in months.

Like a toddler under two years.

Nineteen months for me.

Widows also think about firsts like parents do.

First time for this and that.

First birthday.

First date (after).

It feels like the raising of a child.

It's a lot of work.

It's tiring.

It has its own strong will.

So maybe I am raising an invisible child.

Without any of the rewards.