Last Day. First Day.

I knew this day was coming. I thought about it briefly the day I turned 39, but in the past few weeks this milestone has loomed up and thrown its shadow over my entire life. I didn't expect it to be this big of a deal, which was obviously my first mistake.

Today's the day I outlive Chadwick.

I'm a member of a couple widows' groups and we talk about everything imaginable, plus some things you're all better off not imagining, but how it feels to outlive a spouse is a thing there's probably not a word for. So I once again have no idea how I'm feeling, except for my overwhelming desire to just stay in bed. Forever.

Last night I went to an FC Cincinnati game, finally, but before I headed out I tried to pinpoint when I last went to a professional soccer match. I'm pretty sure it was when I lived in Scotland, and the longer I thought about it the more the absurdity of that realization dawned on me. Despite all that I've left undone and all that's still to come on my bucket list, the fact is that my 39 years have been pretty amazing, mostly by accident, and the best part of it all was the 13 I spent with my Chadwick. Who had 39 pretty amazing years himself.

Today's the last day I can say I spent one-third of my life with him. From now on, that percentage will shrink. Today is the last age (39 years, four months, 14 days) we will ever have in common. Tomorrow is the first day I shoot without a script. Maybe I still have time to write one great solo.

Maybe I still have time. Maybe there's more amazing to come. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to pull myself out of bed one more time.