Inching Forward
Some days, moving forward feels like betrayal; other days, it feels like love with a new face
I’m sitting in a Starbucks just off Route 3 in Marshfield, pausing on my way to visit friends and play golf in Plymouth. It’s classic New England spring weather—rain this morning, giving way to clearing skies. It’s 62 degrees now, expected to climb to 78 by afternoon.
And I’m thinking about Jody.
The past few days have passed in a bit of a blur—different towns, different friends, sharing meals, walks, conversations. There’s been comfort in all of it, but also a persistent sense of absence.
I miss her.
I see her everywhere I go. I feel the ache of her not being here. She should be riding shotgun with me as I head south toward the Cape, talking about our favorite spots, remembering old trips, sharing stories.
It’s been a year since I lost her. One year—the magical point where things are supposed to get easier. Fewer tears. A little more lightness. More hope. And yes, I do feel those things.
But still—grief comes in waves. Sometimes it crashes in suddenly, the weight of losing my soulmate knocking the breath from me. Why did she have to go? Only God knows. The pain has softened, but the cracks are still there. The damage, though no longer fresh, hasn’t vanished.
So I put on a brave face. I move forward. But I also hold back—hesitant to fully step into the life that waits ahead. I haven’t quite opened myself to it yet. I’m not ready to commit completely to what’s next. Because it feels like I’m leaving her behind.
People tell me it takes time. I believe them. I also believe it’s harder because of how completely we loved each other, and how sudden and unexpected her loss was. But regardless of the circumstances, it’s never easy.
Now, it’s time to leave this coffee shop. I’ll get back in the car, check the rearview mirror as I back out—but I won’t dwell on it. My focus is forward.
In the car.
And in life.
Love you all
❤️
About Paul
If you've navigated the complexities of love, loss, or life's unpredictable twists and turns, this blog is for you. Paul, who was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease in 2022 and lost his beloved Jody in 2024, is also a father, new grandfather and a speaker/writer. Paul writes to make sense of the world around him, sharing his personal journey through grief, Parkinson’s, and life's challenges. With a mix of lightheartedness, thoughtfulness, and unwavering authenticity, Paul offers a relatable and heartfelt perspective on the human experience. His writing is often described as warm, genuine and deeply moving.