One month. 30 days. The longest by far we've been apart and no end in sight. How long til I join you there? Short time for you. Interminable for me. Tomorrow we drive to Wichita one month after we drove there with you on our final road trip together. I'm going to decorate your grave. I know you thought that was dumb and not necessary but it's how I was raised. And how I remember you. One way I remember you. I know you wouldn't have decorated mine if things were reversed but I'll still decorate yours until I'm unable to walk
We've had our first Thanksgiving without you, first anniversary without you, first month without you, now first Christmas without you. It hardly seems fair to pile them all on at once.
I slept in your bed last night, Billy usually comes in and crawls in your bed in the mornings but he was up at 3am and slept in my bed. I had therapy today. I cried when I talked about how you pushed me to take care of myself and were my cheerleader and now I have no one. We talked about me finding a purpose and motivation and energy. And about letting God be my cheerleader. I still hear your voice in my head.
A month and I still have your work shirt hanging up, your shoes on the floor, and your clothes you wore to the hospital in your belongings bag. And I can't put them away. Sometimes it feels like the grief gets worse instead of better. The grief coach said it wouldn't be so in my face in time.
I spent more on the kids for Christmas than we ever have. It made me feel a little better. I also gave to some charities. I know "to whom much is given, much is required." I deposited the union's life insurance check today. The first of 3.
My great-uncle died. I'm sure you know and have seen him. I wonder if grandpa, grandma, my great-aunt, and my great-uncle are playing dominoes together. Do they do that there? I have so many questions.
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