Reflecting on 21 years

Today marks what would have been my 21^st wedding anniversary – an occasion that still catches my breath a little, even after all these years. It’s strange how time folds in on itself. Seventeen years have passed since my husband died, yet the calendar continues to carry these dates forward, offering gentle reminders of a life that once was. I don’t brace for them the way I used to, but I still pause. I still reflect. And I still feel that familiar mix of gratitude, sadness, and quiet peace.

Anniversaries have a way of inviting us into two worlds at once. There is the world of memory, where everything is vivid and unchanged, and the world of the present, where life has reshaped itself in ways I couldn’t have imagined back then. For a long time, stepping between those worlds felt disorienting. I wanted to honour the past without being held captive by it, and I wanted to move forward without feeling as though I was leaving anything behind. Healing, I’ve learned, is rarely a clean or linear process. It’s more like learning to walk with both worlds at the same time – to walk in both worlds despite being amputated at the heart.

In the early years, these anniversaries were sharp-edged. They reminded me of everything that had been lost and everything that would never be. But as time moved forward, the edges softened. I began to understand that grief doesn’t disappear; it integrates. It becomes part of the landscape of your life, shaping you in ways that are both painful and profound. And somewhere along the way, I found myself able to look back without breaking open (mostly). I can now remember the joy without being overwhelmed by the sorrow.

Now, when May 21^st arrives, I find myself reflecting less on the absence and more on the presence. The presence of love that shaped me, the presence of resilience I didn’t know I had, and the presence of a life that has continued to grow in new and unexpected directions. Moving forward hasn’t meant forgetting. It has meant allowing myself to keep living, even when the past still whispers.

There is a quiet peace in that. A peace that comes from knowing I have carried my husband’s memory with me into every new chapter, not as a weight but as a companion. A peace that comes from recognising that healing doesn’t erase what came before; it simply makes room for what comes next.

So today, I honour my wedding anniversary. Not with grand gestures, but with a moment of stillness. A moment to acknowledge the love that shaped me, the loss that reshaped me, and the strength that has carried me through every year since. I am moving forward, gently and steadily, with gratitude for the past and openness to whatever lies ahead. And in that balance, I’ve found something that feels very much like peace.

Happy 21^st anniversary, Paul. You live in my heart, always. I luv ya, luv.

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Way back when we first got married, Paul created a couple of short photo videos to share with our family and friends who couldn’t attend our wedding, so I thought I’d share them with you here again. Just in case you want to roll your eyes over how terribly sappy and in love we were.

The “formal” shots
YouTube did not allow me to upload this video with the music Paul had it set to, so the track on the embedded video isn’t as fun. Click here to load the original version.

The “candid” shots
This one is loaded with the original music. So no other link is needed!