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23  months ago my “we” life ended and my “I” life began.

On the first anniversary of my husband Vic’s death, I slipped off my wedding ring and put it near his photo. The next morning, I put it back on. I wasn’t ready.

There are days that just drag on, and the day just doesn't seem to end. I find myself avoiding glancing at a clock, so that I don't have to keep track of how many more hours, Minutes or countless seconds are left in the day. 

I think one of the most difficult things that we go through in this life is the quest to find reason for the events that make our life exactly what it is... Our life.

My wife, Shannon, suffered from mitochondrial disease – or mito as it is known to the victims, friends, and family of those afflicted. A mito patient’s mitochondria are not effective at “producing the power” that cells need to function and that organs need to thrive.

After losing my husband, soulmate, lover, best friend and sounding board, I did not know where to go or what to do. The funeral was over. Friends and family went home and on with their lives. My house which was filled with people was suddenly empty. The hospital bed that my husband used was gone.

Things that were once so simple become mountains of impossibilities. Something as easy as rinsing dishes change in our eyes to a rushing flood of torrent rains. Laundry is the Swiss Alps. Cooking is a brunt pan on the stove because we forgot we were cooking. Driving is not advised. The mind wonders and you can't remember how you got from point 'A' to point 'Z' and you freak.