These eyes

Time seems to be flying by at a record pace these days. My parents lived well into their eighties and both aged so very gracefully. As we get older, we expect to see progressive changes in ourselves. Our hair begins to gray, wrinkles become more prominent. This physical transformation is a beautiful reminder to embrace the aging process. It’s a gift my husband won’t get to experience. He is forever 57.

Embracing this season without Joe has been challenging. Not because of any health reasons. My issues are matters of the heart. Most days I don’t recognize the woman I see in the mirror. Laugh lines have been replaced with worry wrinkles that have multiplied over the last decade. The gray hairs tell me it’s time for Miss Clairol.

But these eyes. These eyes are not mine. They used to be deep blue and now they’ve turned gray. They’re no longer filled with hope and excitement for our future together, a future my Joe fought so hard for. They don’t shine with the anticipation of beautiful days enjoying each other’s company or just being in the same room not saying a word. They don’t sparkle like they did when I would laugh at his crazy jokes and his big personality. These eyes continue to cry rivers of tears. They are dark now. They are tired now.

I try to remind myself every day that I need to live this life for both of us. That’s hard to do when your life was centered around your husband, around your marriage. I’m working on it. Spending time with loved ones has become the highlight of my days. But people are busy with their own lives, so those moments are few and far between. The amount of time I spend alone lends itself to thoughts of days gone by sprinkled with sadness, regret and wishful thinking. I could “what if” myself into oblivion, but nothing can change what happened.

I sit outside most every evening now that spring has arrived. Music blaring, dogs chasing each other around the yard, birds on the feeder, the sound of a lawnmower running somewhere down the street. And me, waiting impatiently for the hummingbirds and my new life to arrive.

Time waits for no one. So, I’m focusing on remembering all the love and the beautiful memories, and less on my incredible loss. I’m certainly not the first person to lose a significant other, and sadly I won’t be the last. I’ll accept my aging like a badge of honor and be grateful I get to experience it. But these eyes. These eyes have seen too much. I’m not sure they will ever see life the same way again.