I was talking with my sister-in-law the other day about an upcoming trip we’re going on. Joe’s mom and his sisters are coming with me to the beach in the fall. I wanted them to see where Joe loved to be. And while we are there, we’ll be leaving some of him behind in his favorite little place in the world.

The conversation got me thinking about all the plans we had for our future. Back before covid we had plans to retire on that beach. Of course, real estate prices shot through the roof and our 401K’s lost more than we were comfortable with, so we cancelled those plans. But we still had so many more.

Who knew?

Joe always wanted to visit his biological father’s hometown of Zell, Germany. I always wanted to go on one of those Viking river cruises. That trip would have satisfied both of our desires. Montana, Seattle, even Alaska was on the table for future vacations. And of course, every year we planned to be beach bums back in Florida for at least a week of rest and relaxation.

Who knew?

Who knew this is where we’d be, where I’d be, today. Who knew I’d be planning trips without him. Or that I’d be doing anything without him for that matter.

I’m finding my grief a little easier to carry now. It still knocks the wind out of me sometimes, and the tears come without warning and last for what seems like forever. But I feel stronger than I did 256 days ago. I still miss Joe as much as I did then, maybe even more now. I still fall into the abyss of loneliness. I still listen to his voicemails, play all of our music, smell his cologne, and talk to him out loud.

But these days I allow myself to think about my future without him, and possibly with someone else. Of course, I probably have to put myself out there for that to happen. I do know that I need to adjust my expectations. I can’t hide from the possibilities of illness, heartbreak, or even death. If I do, I might miss out on a future filled with love and joy.

After all, my Joe said forever and ever, but who knew?