The worst Sunday

Sunday nights are always hard but tonight is the hardest. Tonight, two years ago, on a Sunday night, John and I hugged for the last time. Later that night I awoke up to find him gone - transitioned - passed away - whatever term you want to use. Life was changed forever.
Two years.
104 weeks.
And counting.
On this date, two years ago we were starting out on that weekend visiting family. Our last weekend together.
And that's the thing. I am still counting. Still marking the dates. I have to wonder what I am counting.
Counting from?
Counting toward?
Is it some way to understand?
I don't know. I don't have any answers. Only questions.
And sadness. There are no words.