A friend mentioned to me the other day that her husband was talking about my late husband. The feeling of love enveloped me, and the tears strolled down my cheeks simultaneously. I know other people think about Ross, but when they verbalize those thoughts and words to me, it brings me great joy. I say his name. I say it every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t do it on purpose, but it makes me feel happy to talk about him; it makes me feel his presence even more.
This week, Ross would be turning 58. Numbers have come to mean something to me, signifying many important milestones in my life and somehow aligning them. Fifty-eight is also lucky 13; his 58th birthday this year coincides with another significant milestone for me, one that I wasn’t sure would come to be. One that brings me joy and sadness all at the same time. The duality of grief always rears its head in every significant moment of my life, often bittersweet. It’s days and weeks like these that my grief is ever present and raw, missing him and our life together at an immense proportion.
Ross was an amazing, loving, kind, thoughtful husband who always put us first. He was blessed with a beautiful family, loving parents, and siblings, who all miss him dearly, I know. He was the fun uncle, and above all, he was the most incredible father any child could ever ask for; how blessed my kids were and are to have had him as their own. I am sure that hearing his name undoubtedly brings peace and a smile to all of them. This week, take a moment and think of Ross, say his name, laugh at a memory, cry about a sad time, share a story, raise a glass of Crown Royal in his honor, and help us to wish him a happy birthday. 143
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