Sharpness

Today marks three years since Janine died. No matter the passage of time—while trying to adjust—the pain frequently rushes in to fill the emptiness she left. The months preceding her death kept us apart like cages built of COVID. For most of those months, I could not be physically in her presence to comfort her, so she had to go through the experience alone. Her pain has ended. On anniversaries that remind me, it feels like mine never will. Were it not for my good fortune in unexpectedly discovering love with Colleen, I might sink into  depression. The intensity of this morning’s reminder will pass; the sharpness of the memories never will.