by Rex Coker

Created on: April 21, 2009   Last Updated: August 20, 2009

I wandered to the kitchen, and I found myself standing in front of the fridge. Looking at a note my recently deceased wife had left on it's door, reminded me of things I would not forget. Ironically, I looked at this one particular message, and the tears just seemed to fill my eyes as I read the note. "Pick My dress up from the cleaners." The dress that she was going to wear to my son's graduation, still lay across the chair in the bed room. I had not summoned up the will to put it into the closet. For that fact, I had not entered her closet for many reasons after her death. I knew the scent of her perfume, and it cascaded from the closet. I would have memories of her big smile branded into my mind for a long time to come.

I did not want to forget her. I wanted to hold on to everything that she held dear, and cherished. It was a hard thing to overcome, and I knew it would take some time to recover from my loss. My wife's death was sudden, and I lost her to a brain aneurysm that happened in her sleep one night. A month before our son's graduation from high school. I tried to wake her, and her body was rigid and cold. I had not noticed anything during the night, that would have warned me she was having problems. I grieved uncontrollably for many days afterwards, and tried to make sense out of it all, but reality has a crude way of settling into you; when you loose a loved one that meant so much.

The events of my wife's death are two years old, and there is still not a day or night that I do not think of her. I have tried to date other women, and I have found that my feelings are still there for my wife. I hope one day that I will find another woman that was as loving as my wife. I believe that my deceased wife would want me to be happy, and move on, but moving on is not as easy as it sounds. Though I never speak to the women I date about her. They can sense I still have ties to my wife that are strong, and they give me the space I need to collect some type of sanity about me with out adding drama into the mix.

The advice that people give you about, "Time heals all wounds" is so true. I still have no idea of how much time it will take for me to heal, but I can feel a change in myself everyday that I gaze on a picture of my wife, or catch a scent of something that she once loved to wear. I find myself still holding on, as if she will walk through the door any minute. You can not escape these types of feelings, and I do believe that the memories of her will

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