I’m never prepared for January. After coasting through the holidays, sugarcoated and filled with the warmth of familiar movies, game nights, and a twinkle-light-covered world, I blink my eyes and January’s suddenly upon me full of all this newness and possibility. I’ve heard that some people actually find this time of year exciting. And sometimes, I follow them onto the resolution-making, goal-setting, this-is-gonna-be-the-year-that-I-finally-____________ bandwagon. But I don’t usually stay there long. January is too cold and too dark and too sad a month to be moving forward so quickly. So, I end up back on the couch wrapped in a quilt (or two) and petting a cat (or two).
January isn’t an inherently sad month for most people. But for me, the middle of January holds the memories of a death and a life I once shared. His name was Ed, and over the course of his time on earth, he was many things. A computer programmer. A gamer. A stargazer. A martial artist. A son. A brother. A dear, dear friend. And for a time, he was my husband.