Stronger than I was

Today, the day after the one-year anniversary of Jody’s passing, I’m exhausted.

Part of it is physical—I was wide awake for two hours in the middle of the night. But it runs deeper than that. It’s the emotional hangover from the past month, the slow buildup to yesterday.

Grief experts call it anticipatory grief—that creeping heaviness as a significant date approaches. It can feel like reliving the loss all over again: vivid memories, heightened emotions, sudden waves of guilt. You start questioning yourself—Shouldn’t I be further along? Why am I still so affected? And there’s the quiet fear that others might forget the weight this day still carries for you, leaving you to hold it alone.

I felt all of that this past month. But interestingly, not yesterday.

Yesterday brought something unexpected: relief.
Yes, there were tears. Yes, there was sadness. But more than anything, I felt a sense of accomplishment—that I made it through this year.

Sober. Sane. And somehow, still standing.

In that time, life didn’t slow down for my grief. A new grandbaby was born. I continued navigating Parkinson’s. I retired. I wrote more. I opened myself to new relationships.

I grew—more than I ever expected to.
Not the “growth spurt” I would’ve chosen, but one I was given. And the only way I knew how to face it was head-on. The only way through it… was through it.

I’m a stronger man than I was a year ago. More resilient. More compassionate—with others, but especially with myself. And that might just be the greatest gift this year has given me: learning to care less about what others think, and more about what truly matters.

Gratitude for each day.
And the quiet courage to keep going.

Love you all