An observant friend of mine gently asked me how I handled yesterday. Yesterday being the 20th of the month. If you are new here, I am not fond of the 20th of the month. The 20th is the day of the month my husband died. The 20th of one particular month is also my birthday, which leaves me in quite the pickle.

Yesterday marked 22 months since Gregory’s death. I used to mark each month with a post, but recently, I stopped doing that. It was just something I didn’t feel the need to do. Not that I don’t think about it on the 20th. I think about it every day, every minute, with each breath I take. Even my sleep is flooded with the thoughts and dreams of my husband and the day of his death. It’s like an endless loop in my brain. Dr. Lecter still visits, but not as often as before. I find myself hoping it’s because he has decided to have some mercy on me, not because he has found fresh prey.

When I answered my friend, I used the word “carefully”. Navigating that day, and frankly, every other day, is a gentle dance I do with myself on a moment by moment basis. I am getting better. I am feeling better. But I am still heartbroken, hurting, and probably affected more than I am willing to admit to myself. Most days I am fine, and I find myself not getting washed in grief not nearly as much as before. But it still happens. At night, when the shadows deepen, when I’m driving home in the dark, I usually feel it well up inside me and I try to stay between the lines as I wipe my tears. And it’s not just for G, it’s for my daddy too. For me, because I want to be selfish and whine and ask why they are not here with me.

I’ve always heard the second year of grief is the hardest. I never believed it until I slogged through it. And now, with the two year death-aversary looming ?

What will year three bring ?

I’m both excited and terrified to find out.

Today’s the 20th. Also the 20th month since G died.

Every month I dreaded the 20th. Especially the first months. Then came the holidays, the anniversaries, the birthdays. They’ve come around again. Each month, on the 20th, I spend the day moping and feeling sorry for myself.

Not this month. Today I got up, walked the dogs, went to the gym, made groceries and was halfway home when I realized what day it was. Yesterday I knew it was the 20th. Today? It was just another day. Until I realized it. And when I did? I stopped and bought myself something happy.

And that’s how it’s gonna be from now on. I’m stopping my self imposed exile of good feelings and YAYs! on the 20th from here on out. It’s time. I’m still grieving. I still miss my husband. The actual day he died will still be hard as hell, as will the holidays and other moments when he should be here instead of wherever that magical place he’s supposed to be is. But part of moving on is moving forward and letting go of the things that weigh us down. That damn date on the calendar has done it long enough. The 20th is just another day. It’s my birthday day. Which obviously outweighs any sadness, doncha think?

So it’s been 20 months. From here on out, no more two oh woe.

It’s just another day in what I hope is a long string of days I got left. And by golly I’m gonna enjoy ‘em.

I hope you do too.

(P.S. Next I’m back to the 30 days of truth. Eventually. )

This Saturday I will be on a panel at a blogging conference talking about grief.

This Saturday, I will have to talk about IT.

Yes, IT.

That’s what I refer to IT as. The death of my husband. The beginning, the agonizing middle, the end. The unthinkable choices that I had to make. The death of a life and the birth of unfathomable grief and suffocating guilt.

IT.

I have Dr. Lecter. He is my Grief Monster. My semi-constant companion, with his bag of tricks like insomnia and widow-heimer’s.

IT is my Pennywise. Always with me, with IT’s dead eyes and crazy grin.

IT.

I have talked about IT here on this blog so many times over the last 16 and a half months.

But I’ve never really talked about IT.

But this weekend, I have to. I have to give the words a voice. I have to put a face to the words I have written. I have to come out from behind my keyboard and bring IT with me.

I have to think about and talk about IT, about how IT affected me, about how I leaned on others because of IT. About how IT made a community come together to help me.

IT will always be a part of my life. IT will always be with me. I’ll never get over IT.

But this weekend, I’m taking IT into a place where I will be surrounded by 2500 friends, some known, many unknown.

And I think that after I talk about IT, I’ll sit with my friends and laugh and feel the warmth of the life around me.

And it will still be here.

But I think that it will be ok.

And so will I.