Friday on my mind

It's amazing to me how much Fridays still affect me—and not in a good way. If you've read my previous posts, you know that Dennis died on Christmas Eve 2010 (a Friday night). Every Friday since then has affected me one way or the other—good, bad, ugly and everything in between. I've been feeling really good lately; you might even say that a form of happiness has crept back into my life. But as well as I've been feeling, when Friday rolls around, it still gets to me. That's 55 consecutive Fridays now. I can still clearly "see" him in his chair, his last night on earth. Will this image ever fade? Do I want it to? I guess that's the dilemma I find myself in—remember or forget? Part of this is due to the fact that we never discussed how I'd get along after he died, and that's mostly my fault—that unrecognized denial that I subconsciously went through and just recently realized. Many of my friends keep telling me, "You know he'd want you to be happy." And while I can agree with them, there's still that sliver of doubt because we never talked about it. I guess the biggest problem is that I do want to be happy, but I wanted to be happy with him beside me, not me alone. That's the roadblock I can't seem to get around at the moment. Thoughts like these bombard me on Fridays like no other day of the week. How do I move on? That's the current $64,000 question.