Today marks the eight year anniversary of my wedding.

This is my second anniversary without Stephen. As I reflect back on how I was doing one year ago, I’m astounded by the progress I’ve made. Last year, the days leading up to September 16 were very difficult, with several tear-filled days and restless nights. This year, I’m enjoying doing jigsaw puzzles and eating sushi with my friends, and I had the amazing opportunity to dance the night away at the Lady Gaga Mayhem Ball last night. And while a good portion of her show referenced themes of death, it wasn’t terribly triggering for me.

One year ago, I was still trying to get a handle on functioning as a somewhat normal human being. My sleep was gradually improving, albeit slowly. I was starting to get a little more focused on work, but I was still very easily distracted. I was trying to create a healthy daily routine for myself that included eating nutritious balanced meals, getting a little exercise, and carving out time to read, write, and reflect.

Today, I am sleeping well almost every night, I am back to my usual work productivity, and I’ve created a solid daily routine that includes exercise, yoga, meditation, journaling, and spending time with loved ones. I’ve found musical groups to join and I’m active in my local dancing community. In one year, I’ve managed to assemble a surprisingly enjoyable life for myself!

I’m a lover of structure, and a significant part of my grief journey involved creating a process and structure for my grief. These are things I was doing on a daily basis one year ago:

As you’ve probably noticed from the list above, my waking hours were still very largely centered around Stephen. I was still coming to terms with the loss, learning how to live without him, and I spent a lot of time memorializing our relationship.

Fast forward one year, and Stephen is not a huge part of my daily experience. I still think of him often throughout the day, but the memories make me smile more often than they make me cry. I don’t need to hear his voice and see his face every day. I don’t need to write to him anymore. Most days are free of tears. And most significantly, I’m able to exist more fully in the present moment. This is still a part of my healing journey with various ebbs and flows, but I have felt a significant shift in my mindset in the last month. I now have an ability to move forward knowing that’s what Stephen would want for me.

One year ago, dreaming of my future felt nearly impossible. Now, I find myself getting genuinely excited as I talk with friends and family about potential neighborhoods I’d like to live in and what I’m looking for in a future home. I feel like myself again: bubbly, optimistic, determined, joyful, and grateful.

I must be honest, there is still a small part of me that feels like moving forward is somehow disrespectful to the love that Stephen and I shared. But I also know that Stephen would not want me to spend the rest of my life living in the past. He would say, “Erin, that is not very Taoist of you. Follow the flow of life.” My friend Dino is a widower, and he often compares his life to chapters of a book. The beautiful long chapter with his wife ended last year, but now there is a chance for a wonderful new chapter to begin.

To all the widows out there who may be reading this:

Your grief will evolve over time. You won’t feel paralyzed and burdened forever. You will have hopes and dreams again. Be patient. Be strong. Breathe. Be grateful for the little blessings in each day. Embrace the next chapter of your life. YOU get to write it!

And what will future September 16s feel like for me? I imagine each one will get a little bit easier, feeling a little bit more like a normal day. But I will never forget the magical beautiful wedding that we shared with our family and friends eight years ago.