I wish I could say that it’s just May 23rd that sucks, but honestly it’s the whole month. As soon as May 1 rolls around, all I can think about is all of Eric and my “lasts”. I see memories come up on Facebook or Timehop and I think things like – that’s the last time we were at U of M for treatment, or, that’s the last time Eric was able to eat a meal he enjoyed, or the worst, that’s the last time Eric saw Arie. I also see those memories and think things like – little did you know you only had a week left together, or a day, or whatever time frame.

Eric’s last days went a lot faster than we anticipated (if you want more specifics you can read about them in my May 23 post from last year: D-Day – 5-23-16), which was a blessing and a curse. When the hospice nurse came in the morning of the day he died, she thought he had another week or so. After she left, Eric told me that she was just guessing and that his grandpa or grandma lived a lot longer than they thought she would. I think with the increased pain meds though, he was finally comfortable enough to stop fighting and start relaxing, and with that came a faster end. My friend Chay was a hospice nurse and she told me that young people can sometimes hang on for a long time when they are dying, and it can be painful for the family to watch. Thankfully (I guess?) that didn’t happen, and he went quickly into the arms of his Savior, Jesus. I wish that made it easier, but it doesn’t. Nothing makes watching someone you love die, easier. Although I did enjoy watching him mix imaginary cocktails in his confused mental state.

Honestly, I think he was waiting to see Arie one last time before finally letting go, because literally (and I truly mean literally) less than a minute after he said “hey, buddy” to Arie, and played with his little baby hand, I walked back into my kitchen and he transitioned into that final phase. And Arie wasn’t even supposed to be at our house. At that point he was staying with my parents in Kalamazoo, and my mom only brought him up because I was such a wreck, and my dad thought it might help to see him. So really what I’m getting at is that it’s all my dad’s fault, because if Arie hadn’t come up that night, Eric would have been around longer.

Obviously, I’m kidding.

After that last phase started our family and friends were able to fill our living room and say their final goodbyes to Eric before he passed at 10:55 pm. There was so much love and pain in the room that night, and it’s just a really bittersweet memory that I’ll always cherish. The people that walked our journey the closest with us, were able to be there to finish it with us in the end, and that seems pretty perfect.

There’s a part of me that wishes it could have just been Eric and I at the end, but it’s just a small part. The same small part that wanted to say screw it, and not have a caringbridge site, or this blog, or let anyone else into our lives that already didn’t feel like our own. But, of course, the bigger part of me was so thankful to have so much love surrounding us and so many people praying for us, and so many friends and family that deserved their own goodbyes.

Looking back on this past year, it doesn’t seem any different than the first year. It feels like a lot longer than 2 years and a lot shorter than 2 years all at the same time. Every now and then I’m still completely taken off guard about Eric being gone. Like it actually surprises me, and my stomach drops to my feet and my chest tightens and I have to walk myself through a little panic attack. Really pleasant stuff. Overall, just like year 1, year 2 has been manageable. I stay very busy, I have an excellent support system, and I am still a genuinely happy, sarcastic person.

Today I’ll be taking the day off work and spending it doing fun stuff with Arie and some friends. We’re heading to a zoo, and possibly a splash pad. Then while Arie naps, I’ll probably watch Parks and Rec or a movie. At some point we will hit the cemetery, and I’ll end the day having dinner with some friends and sharing our memories.

Thank you for continuing to read this blog, and care about my life. In the next few days I’ll be sharing an update about my plans for the rest of this year, and what I see for the future of this site. But today is about my sweet husband, so if you’re so inclined, head to the About section of this blog and watch his funeral service, or my video eulogy, or his slideshow. And I will leave you with his obituary:

Eric was a successful civil engineer, a connoisseur of fermented beverages, a loyal friend, an avid LeBron James fan, a proud father, a reluctant vegetarian, a selfless husband, a friend to anyone he just met, a funny guy, a strong Christian, a pesky brother, and a fearless fighter until the end. To know him was to love him, and he will be fiercely missed.

Indeed he is.