Yesterday marked nine years since my late husband, Jarronn, passed away.
Nine years have gone by, and the time seems to have been long and short at the same time. The years have been full of life lessons and refining moments, and yet so many people have felt an emptiness in the space he used to occupy as a dear friend and family member.
I still think of him often. I think about how incredibly special he was. About the imprint he’s left on me. About how much he’s loved and missed. And how none of us — not him, not me, not the people who knew him — had the slightest clue that a random Thursday in July would be his last day here with us.
