I wonder if you know just how much I love you, and miss you?
I don't think one is ever old enough to be alone like this ... nor is anyone ever married long enough to be without the other. Not when there was a love like ours.
I miss so much about you.
That twinkle in your eye.
The way you would pat me on the butt ... or "cop a feel".
I miss you opening your arms to me - hearing you say, "Awww, baby. It's going to be ok. We will make it thru all this."
I miss coffee with you - even tho you didn't really like it, you would drink that first cup with me every morning.
I miss a glass of tea in the evenings.
I miss fixing your meals, and waiting on you.
I miss when you would find me busy and you would fix me a glass of tea, bring it to me and take one drink before handing it to me.
Makes me smile now to remember.
Memories are sweet ... but they also hurt like hell. Because they aren't real anymore.
I don't mean to whine or complain - but this widow life sucks! Trying to be strong now for 17 months (come Friday). I'm tired, honey. I think about just giving up, giving in to the sorrow and the grief. I feel so weak at the thought of pressing forward and living this life without you.
You gave me strength and you offered me courage.
Our life wasn't perfect. We saw a lot of hard times, didn't we? The last few years being the hardest. But thru it all - we stayed together. We held onto one another. We fought life side by side.
In some ways - you won, and I lost. Living with that hurts.
I want to go home. Oh how I want to go home.
Home is not a house, or a place. Home is being loved, and held. Home is knowing that no matter what - someone has your back. Home is laughter, and disagreements. Home is reality. Oh! I want to go home.
When those thoughts come - on the heels of those thoughts, is the dark realization that there is no home.
I have no house or place to call "home". I have no one who waits for me, or misses me. I have no arms that are open to me. There is no one who truly has my back - even when I am wrong.
I don't even have a place to unpack my suitcase and hang my clothes up - do you know how tired I am of wearing wrinkled clothes? I told you several years ago that I was tired of that. The travels ... the truck driving ... the staying here and staying there. So tired of packing and unpacking. Even more so now. I want to hang my clothes up!
But more than hanging my clothes up - I want to be held. loved. cared for.
I miss you.
I wish I had had the presence of mind in those first few months to hang onto some of the things I miss most now - your coffee cup, your cereal bowl, your favorite glass, spoon and fork, our iron skillet that Momma bought us for a wedding present ... just "things" and "stuff" - but, they were ours! they were now mine. But when the house was taken, and my life was turned inside out - I didn't know what to do with it all. I couldn't think clearly. And now? all that I own will fit comfortably in the back seat of a small car.
Others talk to me about getting my own place ... I might ought to. But there is no excitement in that for me. I do not do alone very well. I have no desire for that. But I know that I cannot continue to be a burden to those around me.
I struggle daily to focus on the little things - those things that make me smile. Moments and memories.
I smile more, and laugh more often ... and I cry less. There are still tears - and on occasion, bitter tears.
Think I am getting stronger at carrying the grief ... but it will always remain. As I will be always in love with you.
I miss you.