Three Years

Three years. 

Three years ago today my doorbell rang. It feels like forever ago but just yesterday at the same time. A posting and a half.

Three years ago today they told me my husband would never be coming home again. There's been an accident. His LAV rolled over. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. 

Half of his ashes are buried beside his comrades in the National Military Cemetery. The other half in Nova Scotia, under the shade of a maple tree. His ashes are there but he is not there.

He is here. 

He has always been here.

He is the laughter of our children. He is in their smiles and the way they move and speak. Are you sure Mom? I'm not so sure.

He is a thousand memories. Hello old man, I'm your dad. A walk across a flooded field. An empty chocolate chip bag. Two fingers banging on a keyboard. Have you seen my blackberry? 

He is the words of an old familiar folk song. We'd fired no guns- shed no tears. Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of Barrett's Privateers.

He is always here: always encouraging me, always believing in me, always guiding me.

He is the light that led me out of a dark hole in Wainwright. You can't stay here. You promised me you and the kids would have good, happy lives. 

He is there to give me a gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) nudge when I don't think I can go any further. Just a few more steps. Keep going forward.

And he is there to help me get back up every time I fall. You ARE strong enough. You've got this.

He is there, reassuring me when I don't have all of the answers. No one has all the answers Mon, not even me. 

He is there when I don't know if I should take a chance. What if it doesn't work out? You'll never know if you never try. You know it is so worth the risk. Don't live your life with regrets. 

He is there beside me every time I stand at a podium and speak to a regiment or a room full of military spouses. Tell them, they need to know. He is in every soldier's hug I receive.

He is a red Remembrance poppy worn over a grateful heart. For your tomorrow, I gave my today.

He is a bugle's lonely cry and the mournful wail of a piper's lament. Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.

And he is the Canadian flag fluttering in the wind as it flies so proudly from sea to sea to sea. Oh Canada. I will always stand on guard for thee. 

He is always here.

He will always be here. 

This morning as I ran, he was there, his voice whispering in the gentle ocean breeze. Good girl. That's it. Follow your heart, it knows the way.

Always.

I promise. 

Three years. Forever and just a day.