It’s been a few weeks since you departed, and the vibrant flowers from the funeral home have now wilted away. The children are at school, leaving the house enveloped in silence. It’s just me, accompanied by my ever-vivid memories of the past two decades we shared.
Recently, I visited your grave, where I struggled to find a place for the white lilies and pink orchids I’ve brought. Words escape me when I stand there, so I find solace in staring at the earth that holds you. I can’t help but feel life is unfair; our love story remains unfinished. We didn’t even get to navigate through the toughest parts together—you left during a particularly challenging chapter. So now, I hold onto the beautiful moments we created while grappling with what to do with all these memories.
Everywhere I turn, I am reminded of you and the love we shared. As I left the cemetery, I glanced across the street at that little garden shop you loved to frequent. Do you recall those days when we rummaged through aisles of ornaments for our first home? I can still picture the holiday season after we tied the knot when we took a goofy photo sitting on Santa’s lap, laughing uncontrollably. Love makes you forget about looking foolish.
Driving past the corner grocery store belonging to your family, memories flooded back. This is where your funeral motorcade paused—a moment that marked the end of an era for our family’s legacy. I still hear your laughter as you served hot dogs on that sweltering Fourth of July, bringing joy to customers and friends alike. It’s a sacred spot to me, one that a stranger casually overlooks while waiting for the bus, unaware of the profound memories it holds.
I recently had to go to the lawyer’s office, another task on the lengthy list of responsibilities I face as a widow. It’s next to the newspaper where I worked early in our marriage, and I could almost hear the excitement in my voice the day I snuck in to take a pregnancy test. I was eagerly awaiting our first child, a moment filled with so much love and anticipation.
Years ago, while visiting that same office, I met a maintenance man with a leprechaun tattoo. Your generous spirit shone through when you insisted I give him our Notre Dame tickets so he could fulfill his dream of taking his son to a game. That’s who you were—always thinking of others and making dreams come true.
As the holiday season approaches, I find myself overwhelmed with memories. I long for the days we spent apart during our long-distance relationship, counting down the days until we could enjoy hot chocolate by a fake fireplace, listening to Bing Crosby. I remember the excitement of Christmas mornings as our children tore through presents, their joy encapsulated in photographs that now serve as reminders of the love we shared.
I’ve had to sort through your side of the closet, and it’s been heart-wrenching. Each T-shirt and worn-out sweatshirt carries a memory, and I can’t bear the thought of letting go of your tattered green Notre Dame hat. It symbolizes so much love and laughter, and I wish someone could explain why a simple hat can break your heart.
Opening your sink drawer, I stumbled upon your toothbrush, another reminder of your presence. The thought of discarding it feels like finalizing the reality of your absence. I can still picture the times we raced each other while brushing our teeth and the laughter that filled our evenings.
I found your wedding ring, the simple white gold band that hadn’t fit for a year due to your weight loss. I remember the inscription, “Loving You Always,” which now carries a deeper meaning. The love we shared will forever remain within me. I wear your ring as a reminder of our unfinished story.
Our bedroom is a painful reminder of that last morning. It’s where I gazed into your beautiful, two-toned eyes one last time. I can still see you in that green sweater, laughing at the hibachi chef on my birthday. Memories of laughter and joy linger here, overshadowing the sorrow.
I find snippets of our love story in every photograph and memory. Even as I write thank-you cards, I recall an inside joke from a Seinfeld episode that only we would appreciate. From those trivial moments, we built a life filled with love. Though our time together was brief, the memories we created are enough to help me navigate each day, with reminders of our love in the children we raised together.
Rest peacefully, dear husband. Your love will always surround us as we continue our journey—grocery shopping, attending school events, and everything in between.
In summary, this heartfelt letter captures the deep emotions of a widow reflecting on her late husband. It shares memories of love, laughter, and the painful yet beautiful journey of remembering a life shared together. As she navigates life without him, she finds solace in cherished moments and their children who carry on his legacy.