January 5th 2023 Manny walked down to the corner store to grab a beer as he did on so many nights, and came back with popsicles for us. He knows I love sweets and would often surprise me with treats. He ate his popsicle, but I wasn’t hungry and decided to save mine for the next day.

That next day turned out to be one of the worsts days of my life. I was in shock, panicked, distressed, traumatized and heartbroken. My love was gone. I left with Manny’s family to his grandma’s house where Elvis and I stayed, stopping back only to feed the cats. All the while that popsicle was sitting in the freezer.

A week later I returned to the apartment to spend the night in my bed, shower in my shower, and see if staying in the apartment was something I was ready to handle. It still felt comfortable, safe, and like home, but with a big piece missing. My own bed was soothing, despite the immense amount of tears falling on my pillow. I slept on Manny’s side of the bed because the pain of rolling over to him not being where he should be was unbearable.

Aside from sleeping, I had someone with me almost non-stop those first weeks. A rotation of close and caring friends that I am forever grateful for. They forced me to eat, cried with me, fed my pets and took out the trash. I could barely do the most simple of tasks. I was completely helpless and in survival mode, but without the drive to survive.

In my fridge sat the popsicle. The last treat Manny bought for me. A lot of people say they can’t imagine what it is like. Try to picture everything surrounding the person you love and share your life with is over in an instant without warning. No chance to say one more thing, give one more hug and kiss, or look forward to the future together. No more memories to be made, what you had is all you get. You frantically try to collect and store all the memories before they fade, as an excruciating reverse countdown starts. He was alive just yesterday…one week ago…2 weeks…one month…3 months…

That first month I could barely eat any food, let alone a popsicle. The second month it was a reminder of the sweet little things he would do for me. The third month it was some of the only food left in our kitchen that he had purchased. The popsicle “expires” in 2024, although there already seems to be a bit of ice forming on it. It was the final little gift from my love, but I can’t save it forever. People say things like “he would want you to be happy…” Well, I think that he probably would want me to eat the popsicle.

So, somewhere during this unexpected journey of sorrow I decided on a date to eat the popsicle. July 6th 2023. It is both his birthday, and exactly 6 months since his passing. Another milestone in the reverse countdown of grief.

The time is almost here. That date is less than a week away and the popsicle is waiting for me. I wonder if anyone else has ever been so emotional over a popsicle? The last few days I have been crying over it. Should I wait longer to eat it? Will I even be able to do it? It feels like a piece of him that is still here will be going away.

This is something I never would have imagined before being faced with this. Attaching enormous emotions and meaning to the smallest things. Saving socks and tooth brushes. Not cleaning that spot on the window that has his handprint on it. Not washing his pillows or the last shirt he wore. Not being able to throw away his shrimp ramen noodles, even though I hate shrimp.

It doesn’t get better with time, it gets different. Life is evolving around my grief but when a wave hits it stings as much as the first day. I am still able to enjoy the things that have always brought me joy- drumming, nature, hiking, music, friends, animals. Somedays I don’t cry at all. Most days I just have one little swell of tears. Somedays my plans are held hostage by the weeping. Today has been one of those days. It was because I looked in the freezer and saw that popsicle, a reminder that the 6 month mark is almost here.