Good morning love. Missing you so much this morning. I love having the huge picture of you sleeping next to me at night. It is such a great picture and so reassuring to see your smiling face first thing. I truly just cannot believe this. I wonder when that reality sets in? Likely it creeps in until it just is.
The estate attorney seems like a good guy. Thank you for putting everything in place. Realized that was the last major "thing" to do. The rest is now following through to completion. Not easy but I have a solid framework to go from. I cannot thank you enough for taking care of me.
Went to the Apple store yesterday to get your iPad and iPhone unlocked. Can't believe I cannot think of the password. We worked with the same man that sold us my phone a few weeks ago. I lost it in the front of the store right when you walk in. Couldn't figure out why this upset me more than the estate attorney. I think Carol is right that it is because these items were very personal to you.
One of the first things I saw was our last day of text exchanges. I have read them on my phone many times, but seeing them on your iPad knowing that you had touched it and typed them and thought of me.... oh lovey.
Hope you saw your sister and I sitting at the kitchen table last night in hysterics trying to come up with songs that had our name in it. Mine were WAY better. Did you hear her son, "Carol" by Chuck Berry and "Carol" by Neil Sedaka? Horrid, truly. It felt good to laugh and be silly. For just a moment to feel the burden and pain of this release its death grip on my heart.
I could not have survived this without your family. I simply adore them. It is easy to be with them and like being with you, it is as if I have known them my whole life. It is reassuring to be surrounded by people that knew you and loved you as I did. I don't want them to leave. The house will be too quiet and I am afraid to hear the silence. I know they must as being here is a consistent adrenaline rush trying to get so many things done. They need time to stop and feel their own quiet. I wish I could absorb their pain. One person suffering should be enough.
Saw Steph yesterday and it was great to see her. Felt you in the car as we were taking her home. Realizing that she heard the things you said in all your chats even when you thought they fell on deaf ears. Suppose that is normal parenting.
Your suitcase is still sitting at the end of the bed. I need to go through it today. I keep telling myself they are just things. I have all of these things in our house now that don't matter, are insignificant. They are things without an owner. How silly the world is that we allow ourselves to get caught up in material things. I can hear you quoting your dad saying, "You can only wear one pair of pants or shoes at a time."
I worry for you love and want to be sure you are at peace. I think about the moment you passed all the time. Wanting to be sure you didn't suffer and you felt my love. That you were not alone. I was such a lucky woman to have you in my life. In you, I finally found my safe harbor. Your unfaltering love and belief in me, in us, in our family... you were my everything. I know we were unique in our love. Not everyone has the chance to love or be loved like this.
Life is pulling me in to start another day. Stay with me today, be close. Fingers crossed....
Loving you always, ~A
Hi Amy, I am proud of you for starting this blog so soon after Richard's death. It takes a lot of strength and courage to reveal your feelings to the world at time when the grief is so fresh.
ReplyDeleteKnow that this pain will get easier to manage over time but it will not go away. I know from experience.
Keep writing Amy, the world needs to know what unexpected & unwanted widowhood is like so they can better understand how to help us.
Praying for you.
Michele Kearns
(Grandma B's oldest daughter - and fellow widow)
http://joyreturns.com
Amy, I am sorry I referred to your husband as Richard instead of Robert.
ReplyDeleteMichele Kearns