It was on this day, March 10, 2012, that I heard my husband’s voice for the last time.

That’s over 1,800 days of not talking to him at least three times a day. That was always our thing. When you live in different states for over half your relationship, you learn the importance of communication…and we did. We talked about everything – from politics to which singer was truly the King of R&B.

That’s why I guess today has flooded me with such a wave of emotions. I knew he wasn’t feeling well that day. I was celebrating my grandmother’s 84th birthday but kept calling to check on him. He sounded terrible but kept assuring me he was okay and looking forward to my arrival in five days. We were finally going to be able to celebrate our first wedding anniversary in grand style.

I called three times (anymore and he would have definitely called me the worrywart that I am) and each time he said he would be back to 100% by time I flew in.

When I arrived home, I called. It was a bit after 9 p.m. and he sounded as though he’d awaken from a deep sleep. For the first time, I told him how concerned I was that he wasn’t feeling any better and that the morphine didn’t seem to be helping with the pain.

“I’m so worried about you,” I said softly into the phone.

He was silent for a bit then he said, “I’m going to be okay.”

I said I love you and for the first time that day he said it too.

I didn’t know it then but it was the last thing my husband would ever say to me.

I’d planned to call before church the following Sunday but considering I went to 7:30 a.m. service, I thought he wouldn’t be too pleased with being stirred out of bed to answer a ringing phone.

After church, I got back to the car to see an unusual amount of missed calls. Calls from practically each member of his family. Calls to tell me a piece of my heart was dead though it continued to beat in my chest.

Five days ago on what would have been our 6th wedding anniversary, I felt “okay”. I acknowledged the day but focused on all that I’d been able to accomplish post-loss. I celebrated the fact that I was able to get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, walk through this grief journey and eventually help others through as well. I celebrated dating and meeting a great guy who has been genuinely committed to my happiness and that of my daughter’s. I celebrated living despite experiencing such a tragic loss.

But today…

A mere five days later, I feel sucked back under by the grief waves. What would I have said had I known it was my last conversation? How do you even begin to pack a nearly decade long love story into a telephone conversation? How do you prepare to say goodbye?

I remember I once jokingly asked him, “How come you never ask if I love you?”

His response: “I feel it. I know it. I’ve never doubted your love”.

So on a day where I struggle with missing the signs of what would have been our final chat and wondering what I would have said, knowing that he would be taken much too soon for my heart to handle, I take comfort in knowing I would have told him of the love I have for him; the love I will always have…words he already knew; words he never doubted.

Mom to a feisty preschooler, Kerry Phillips became widowed at age 32. She runs an online support group for young widows and widowers venturing back into the world of dating and is a blogger for The Huffington Post.