A New Not Wanted Routine

After more than three weeks away, I’m heading back to the office this week. The same place where I got the call—Eddie hadn’t arrived at his clinic yet. The place where I heard my son’s voice telling me that Eddie was gone. I don’t say this because I expect my return to work to bring up feelings, just that it serves as a reminder: a regular day can change in an instant.

That morning, May 15th—the day Eddie passed—was just like every other. We started our day with coffee, caught up on the news, and spent time together before work. Like always, we kissed, said we loved each other, and “see you tonight.”

But those mornings are gone now. I wake up, and coffee doesn’t mean the same thing anymore. I’ve realized that for me, coffee wasn’t just coffee—it was a connection to my husband, a piece of the routine we built together. This week, I’ll wake up, maybe have some coffee, and then head into the office. And that feels lonely. That feels sad.

New Routines

One of the hardest things to manage are the different moments throughout the day when I look at the clock and instinctively know where Eddie would be. I knew his routine. Whether he’d be out on a ride—cycling like he loved—at the clinic, grabbing lunch, or heading home. Those are the moments that remind me he’s no longer here.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve naturally started forming new routines—beyond just brushing my teeth, showering, and making my bed. I’ve tried to make a plan each day to do something both inside and outside of the house. That’s looked like fixing things around the house, running errands, and, yes, visiting Eddie. My visits with him are peaceful. Of course, it’s sad, but I choose to find peace in a place where so many are laid to rest.

I will keep moving forward, shaping a new way of living. It will come naturally, just as my routines with Eddie evolved over time. These new routines will keep me going, offering structure and steadiness in the midst of this unwanted change.