At first it was just the way it happened and now I rely and plan on it.

By January of 2002 John had logged months in hospitals over the previous year, weeks in the ICU, he was sporting a trial device which relied on electricity (via outlet or batteries) and the day to day definition of normal was an ambient level or orchestration and stress and insanity that I hope never to visit again.

So in the days that John died it went like this….

Day 1 – the transplant, the misdirection and disappearance of the cardio thorasic surgeon, and the relaying of the message “He got the heart, we don’t know what is happening.”

Day 2 – really, that was easy. It was the 1,000 yard stare and the kind of waiting that we were all really fucking exceptional at. Doctors came earlier and later than we expected, they told us nothing or tried to warn us of what was coming and we couldn’t hear it quite yet. We knew it was really really bad, but in a lot of ways it was just a day at the hospital. It was a Saturday, so it was tougher to email with friends who weren’t there.

The only strange thing – Saturday night was the only night I ever slept at the hospital through the whole thing. I am grateful that I did.

Mainly though, even as each year I work though all of it again, the second day is the rest day. The chaos is behind and the crushing hasn’t yet arrived. The second day has always just been a day.

Today I took my family to the park for an hour to play, we laughed and chased each other around. Today I took my family to the grocery store where it took a long time and I’m not sure we really bought food. Today I will go out to dinner with my 2nd husband while my son plays with his grandma. Today is just a day, it is a good day, it is a day that exists because of all the days that came before it. ALL of the days.