Good morning, Rick. 
I wonder if you know just how much I miss you. Always. But there are times I miss you more. 
When I have a bad dream, like night before last. One of those recurring dreams - where no matter how many times I woke up and went back to sleep, the dream just continued. I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't change the ending. It haunted me all day yesterday, seemed to permeate every part of me. Oh what I would give to be held in your arms after a bad dream, have you once again wipe away my tears with your kisses. Feel the beat of your heart as you wrapped me in your love and care. Just to know that I was guarded and protected. Sigh. 
When I can't sleep, like last night. Waking up every few minutes all night long. Back aching. Legs cramping. I remember how you used to rub my back, and massage my legs. Do you know how hard it is to not be touched now? I'm realizing more and more that touch deprivation is a real thing - - real, painful, heart breaking. 
Christmas is only 16 days away. Lights are up - makes me remember when we would go out at night, get a cup of hot chocolate at McDonald's, the white hot chocolate, and drive around looking at Christmas lights ... just the 2 of us. How many hours and gallons of gas did we use when the kids were little - going Christmas light lookin'? But I think we used almost as many just for us. Music plays - reminding me of hearing your voice singing or humming the carols. The Christmas baking & cooking - how you would snitch and I would fuss ... how you would grab me from behind, wrap your arms around me and take a "bite" out of my neck. Sigh. 
One would think that this 5th Christmas without you would be easier ... it's not. There is no numbness now. Just the pain of emptiness. 
One would think that being here with family and friends would make things better ... it doesn't. They are all so busy with their own lives and plans. And you know me, I can't ask them to change just for me. Seeing the couples together, even our kids, makes me miss you even more ... how is that possible? To miss you MORE? Yet it is. 
Oh Rick. I know that death is just a part of life. But the holidays are a stark and blasting reminder of just how sucky a part of life it all is. I miss you. 
Yes, I am counting the days till Christmas. Maybe I can breathe a little afterwards. 
I don't want to wish away my life ... but I do have a few thoughts running thru my heart wishing the holidays were over. Sigh. 
If only there were some way for you to wrap your arms around me now. Hold me. Just for a little while. 
​Oh Rick. ​

Rick, I sit here with you on my mind this morning. What shall I write about today?
11 months today since you went away. After 34 years, 7 months, 17 days, and 11 hours - you went away. You left me. You took my breath, my heart. You stole away the music, and my reasons.
I am slowly learning how to breathe again. My heart beats but seems out of time. The music is returning. And the reasons to go on - well, some days I still search for those.
Memories this morning are bouncing around in my head. Flooding my thoughts. Smiles are thru the tears.
--when you got us lost on our way to our wedding night. Going to Lake o' the Pines. We left the church around 10 p.m. - should have been a simple hour drive ... we finally found the motel you had reserved a room at - 1 a.m.!
--the next morning we went to breakfast. The waitress that was snickering when she came to our table. And then, the older lady who came over and quietly told you that you had your shirt on wrong side out. Giggle.
--the times we were in the kitchen together. Music playing. Dancing around. Me cooking - and you snitching every chance you got. The teasing and fussing. The stories we shared.
--You singing to Elvis ... and doing the "hip thing" - making me catch my breath every time.
--us writing the silly little notes to one another, hiding them everywhere. Always trying to "one up" the other one. I found all your notes to me after you left - and I put them into a journal. I sometimes take that journal and snuggle with it. Thinking about you. Missing you.
--the times you would come in the house, tell me to put my shoes on, and you would take me by the hand - lead me outside, and into one of the vehicles. You would get in and start driving. Me asking you where we were going - you knew that drove me crazy! You would just smile and drive. Usually back country roads ... until you found a tree that was amazing in size and strength ... or a rose bush in full bloom - and you would steal a rose bud for me ... or you would drive until we found that out of the way general store, for a coke ... a cafe that you were certain had pie ...
--the midnight runs on the motorcycle. Wake me up at midnight - get up, and get dressed. It's a full moon night - time for a bike ride. We would ride until the sun started coming up.
--when we were so broke we couldn't find 2 pennies ... and you would come home from work with a Dr Pepper for me. Because someone on your route had given it to you, but you would't drink it ... bringing it home to me. I would take 2 of our prettiest glasses, and share it.
--sitting on the swing late into the night talking about our future.
--sitting on the tailgate of the pickup under the stars, asking questions that we had no answers for.

And you know what I miss the most this morning?
Remember when I would get stressed out with life, just with all of life?
You stand there - open your arms - and say ... Oh baby, come here.
I would walk into your arms.
You folded me up in your arms, held me against your chest.
And you would always say the same thing ...
"it's going to be all right. we are going to make it thru this -- together."

Damn! I miss being held.  Just to be gathered and held.

I love you Rick ... thank you for all the memories ...
the smiles ...
even the tears.
Just to know that I was loved once in my life.
​Loved once - for 34 years, 7 months, 17 days, and 11 hours.
I love you today ... always and forever.
Your Sunny.

Oh Sweetheart.
I love you and I miss you. Every day ... every heart beat. I love you and I miss you.
​I have 33 days of this first year left. I feel the anxiety rising within me. My emotions are on a hellish roller coaster ride. I feel the stress on my body.
​And I force myself to breathe. "Just f***ing breathe" is what I keep telling me - and in the last week, I say that a lot, but probably not near as much as I will be saying it the next 33 days. ​
​Sometimes I think I am doing good in being your widow. And other times? Well, not so much. Others tell me that I am "normal" - but you know better. How can I be "normal" now, when I have never lived a "normal" day in my life? --giggle--

​There are those who say I need to "move on" with my life. Well, honey, I am trying. I just never thought it would be this hard. I am so scared. I don't know where to go. I don't know what to do. You were my strength, my rock. You were the wise one - guiding and directing me. If you didn't have the answers - you at least had the words of hope and encouragement, that we would make it thru all this. And I knew that no matter what - you had my back, you were big enough, strong enough, and you believed in me enough, that no matter what ... you would defend me, you would stand beside me.

​I have some friends who have lost their heart and way, too. We talk a lot. We walk thru this grief together. We cry, and we laugh.
​I really like my friends ... no. I really LOVE my friends. I have come to lean on them, to look for them. I have learned so much with them.
​Never taking their friendship lightly - because I know at what a great price they have paid to be here with me in all of this.

​Our kids are doing great. I know they miss you, they think about you, they remember the things you said and the things you taught them. They are strong and good - they have their feet on the ground. You did a good job, you know that? You left them a legacy of love, of honor, of honesty and respect. You laid a foundation of faith and trust. They are living it. You should be proud of them. And proud of YOU, too.

​Some say that I need to just let this "One Year" day come and go - that it is no different than any other day. (Sounds like something you would say.)
​Others say that I need to make "plans".
Plans of what?
I can't celebrate that day a year ago. I can be thankful that you are no longer hurting and suffering the horrors that you endured. I can be thankful that your body is at peace. But celebrate? I can't. I am sorry.
​
Doing my Texas stomp - this is MY grief, MY journey, MY life - I have decided to use these final days of this first year to look back at our life and our love ... and to simply say, "Thank you, Rick".

And today, Thank you, Rick - for the rose you gave me on February 16, 1979 ... the most beautiful salmon colored rose - never have I seen another one that color. I remember coming home from school, seeing the vase sitting on the table, the rose a splash of color in the kitchen. When I read the card, I cried ... and I cried ... and I cried. Tears of joy. I had loved you for so long, with no response from you at all. You barely recognized me at school, or church, or even in your home when I would be there with Tina. And now, this Rose.
Thank you for that rose, for the tears, for the smiles.
​No one understood my love for you then ...
and few understand it now.
​But -- I loved you then ...
​and I love you still.