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| Crescent (M.A. Reilly, Rockport, Maine, November, 2012) |
Earlier last week, I removed the ring that Rob had placed on my finger all those decades ago. It was done with far less ceremony than when we first married. I removed it without hesitation. Sometimes you just know when it is right. And I knew without question that Rob was gone forever.
There's death, it's aftermath, and then there are those singular events that profoundly show what has been known, yet not truly felt.
My husband is dead. I am not.
Life pulses on.
II.
The months between Rob's death and now, have revealed a new understanding of what it means to be a parent. No longer can I turn my body into Rob's and seek answers through touch. No longer can I pass parenting to Rob, knowing he will care for Dev. Now, the joys and challenges of being the only parent are all mine.
Some days it's lonely here without Rob--other days, less so.
III.
After a week, an imprint of my wedding band remains. For years I have been wearing that slender bend of a waxing crescent moon wrapped tightly around my finger.
Now, that young moon is gone and only the pale glow remains.
