To My Beloved, on the One-Year Anniversary of Your Passing Due to COVID

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My Dearest,

It feels like I’ve tried to put this into words countless times, yet the right phrases seem elusive. I can hardly believe it’s been nearly a year since I lost you. So much has transpired, yet a part of me feels as though time has stood still. The memories of our final days together are still so fresh, like they occurred just yesterday. I can picture you in your favorite Mets shirt and sweatpants, gazing at me from the doorway of our bedroom while I stood by Elsie’s room. I remember telling you how proud I was of you and assuring you that you would start feeling better. As I made my way down the stairs, I said “I love you” because I thought you would soon be on the mend and we could return to our normal lives. Little did I know that our journey was about to take an unexpected turn just days later.

April 3rd still lingers in my mind. That day haunts me in many ways. I often replay it in my thoughts, questioning if I could have done something different. I recall how you asked me for water the night before, and I promptly brought it to you. I texted to let you know it was at the door, but you never responded, and I didn’t hear you get up to get it. You had been so tired, and the doctor reassured us that it was normal. I thought you had simply fallen asleep, but now I see how wrong I was.

I wish I had returned to check on you; perhaps I would have sensed something was amiss and gotten you help sooner. It wasn’t until I went to fetch Elsie that I heard you struggling to breathe. Once I realized you were in distress, I did what I could, but a part of me still wishes I had acted faster. I will never forget the look on your face as I entered our room with the oxygen tank. You were so confused and didn’t recognize me, and I was terrified, unsure of what to do. As they carried you down the stairs, the dazed expression on your face is etched in my memory. I mouthed “I love you” while holding Graeme, feeling helpless because I thought you would get the care you needed and return home. If only I had known it would be the last time I would see you.

Sweetheart, you would likely tell me I have nothing to apologize for, but I can’t help but feel the weight of my regrets. I’m sorry I thought I had caught everything in time. I regret not mentioning that I was starting to feel unwell, wanting you to focus only on yourself, as you always did. I wish I could have been there to hold your hand, to ease your fear and loneliness. I’m sorry that you had to face your final days without your loved ones by your side. I’m heartbroken that you won’t be here to watch Elsie and Graeme grow up. I lament all the adventures we never got to take and the dreams we didn’t fulfill together. Most of all, I’m sorry I never answered your last question: “What if I don’t make it?” Now, a year later, I can say this: Elsie, Graeme, and I will miss you deeply, but we will be okay. You always believed in my strength and resilience, and I will honor your memory in every way possible. I will advocate for awareness about the impact of COVID on families like ours, ensuring that you, among many others, are never forgotten. I plan to support other young widows and widowers of COVID, creating a network to help us all heal. Above all, I will make sure Elsie and Graeme know what a wonderful father you were, how much you adored them, and the legacy of love you leave behind.

I often think back to our last FaceTime call almost a year ago, which was poignantly on the anniversary of when you proposed. Although you were heavily sedated, I know you could hear me as I reminisced about that perfect day. I told you I would do it all over again, even knowing how much pain would follow. When you passed, I knew just how deeply I loved you, and I cherish the time we had together. I wish we had more time, but I am grateful for every moment we shared. I will carry your spirit with me as I navigate life, fulfilling the dreams we had for Elsie and Graeme in your memory.

I want you to know that I think of you and miss you every day. Thank you for being part of my life, for your unwavering support, and for all the joy you brought me. Thank you for the memories, the laughter, and for teaching me about love and partnership. Most importantly, thank you for giving me our two beautiful children. Your love for me was profound, and I will carry that love forward.

You always said, “Tomorrow isn’t promised.” I will live each day honoring that sentiment, savoring every moment as if it were my last.

I love you, Jake. Now, forever, always.

If you’re looking for more information on fertility and home insemination, check out this post on home insemination. It’s a helpful resource for anyone considering these options. Also, for those looking to enhance fertility for men, this fertility booster is worth checking out. Additionally, March of Dimes provides excellent resources on planning for fertility treatments.

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In summary, this heartfelt letter is a poignant tribute to love lost and the resilience found in the face of grief. It reflects on cherished memories, regrets, and a commitment to honoring a life cut short. The author expresses a determination to advocate for others impacted by similar loss while keeping the memory of their loved one alive.

Keyphrase: loss and resilience in the face of COVID

Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]

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