Eight Years Ago

We have come to another January, the month of the year I hate most. I might do pretty well through most of the rest of the year, but January gets me every time. There is just too much sadness associated with this month, starting today, on the 21st. 8 years ago was the last time I woke up in bed beside my husband. 8 years ago was the last time I got up to make his coffee and toast and a sandwich for lunch. 8 years ago was the last time I told him to have a good day. 8 years ago was the last time I saw him walk out the door. 8 years ago was the last time I got a phone call at lunchtime from him, just seeing how I was doing. 8 years ago was the very last time we had a conversation together. 8 years ago was when I heard, "they've called a code blue." 8 years ago was when I had to keep myself together as best I could to get myself to the hospital going through a crowded school zone knowing my husband may have just died. 8 years ago I had to see my husband hooked up to machines and wires and hoses and being practically frozen, with crying nurses around him working to save his life, but giving me a moment to speak to him, to assure him I was there, to encourage him to fight and come back to us. 8 years ago I couldn't stand the thought of leaving him so spent the night at the hospital as nurses came in keeping him very cold, which he always hated by the way, and offered me very little hope. January 21, 8 years ago, was a nightmare. A nightmare that even 8 years later I can't seem to wake up out of. 8 years ago doesn't seem real, yet I live in its reality every day. 8 years ago I had a husband that I loved with all my heart. 8 years later, I still have a husband, who is just in a better place, that I still love with all my heart! 8 years later I miss him with everything I have in me. 8 years later, "I love you, Ken Davis!"