Saturday, January 14, 2023

1 year and 179 Days

Dear Dead Husband, 

Well, you did NOT get better, as I had hoped, and I'm here trying to piece it all together, not to mention trying to stop your father from sucking me dry monetarily. Currently, he's in the lead. 

It's a long story. I'll tell you sometime. 

Tonight, I was finally able to change any profile pictures on social media to something that was just me and not us. That's pretty huge for me! I don't know why I couldn't do so before this, but I couldn't. I guess it just helped me remember the good times and not just the end there. 

But I don't want to talk about the end right now. 

I want to tell you about the progress.

Aside from changing the pictures, I've also started tackling the shows we used to watch that I couldn't catch up on because of where we left off. It shouldn't have been that hard, but it was. The books I could do as there were only a couple series... or was it only one?... that we were waiting on, and it was a solitary pursuit that we only touched on when we were both done. 


Speaking of books, I'm reminded of the first night I spent in this house on the day you died. You had a book open to where you left off before you passed, your glasses laid down beside it on the coffee table. I had to ask Tracy to take it away while I went outside to smoke. It was too real, too soon after... a reminder of how quickly you had been there and then gone. I still cry when I think about that day and seeing the book. It still guts me. 

OK! So... ummmm... enough of that. I came here to tell you about my progress, not to tear open the wound. 

I love you. I miss you. But I do understand, and maybe we already knew how this would end. 

Love you. Truly, deeply, madly.