Everything is done -- except living on.
Only once did I forget, that day coming home from arranging your funeral, when I stopped for gas and reached for the cell phone to call and tell you that I was on my way. That is the only rime that I have forgotten you are no longer here.
I haven't turned to look at your chair and tell you about the silliness of the news story. I haven't made your morning coffee and tried to bring it to you. I haven't wondered if I could get you to sip some soup today.
I know you are not here.
I know you will never be here.
But I have been working for you, busy for you.
And now it is done, save one task; which has to wait.
And in the long dreary days; through the long dark nights; you are NOT and you never will be again, and it hurts.
It hurts, Rex.
A real aching agonizing physical hurt that is bored into my bones and oozes from my pores.
When I wake early and you haven't taken your medicine.
When I go to the store and it no longer matters what you might like, or eat.
When it's time to come home from the library or the gas station , and there is no one to call and say I'm coming home.
When I come home, and there's no one waiting and watching for my return.
When I sit alone in your front room.
When I close the door and turn out the lights to that same room.
When I go to bed and know that tomorrow will be yet another day of No you.
It hurts.
In a way, I am glad to feel the pain. It should hurt when going-on-thirty years isn't going to make it.
It should hurt when someone isn't there and never will be again.
It should hurt when no one loves you like that Other Person did.
I was getting worried that it wasn't hurting. I was wondering if I truly loved you the way I thought I did. I was wondering if you were a habit. Or something less complete and less important.
Now I know.
I did love you.
I DO love you.
There may be habit in the way we were together, but it was the doing that was the habit; not you.
Never you.
So, the pain begins.
It will dull, or I will get used to it.
It will change, because life's about changes.
But it will never go away.
Some things have to hurt -- surgery to cure is better than peritonitis; childbirth.
Some things have to hurt, and some things just do hurt.
I miss you so.
Only once did I forget, that day coming home from arranging your funeral, when I stopped for gas and reached for the cell phone to call and tell you that I was on my way. That is the only rime that I have forgotten you are no longer here.
I haven't turned to look at your chair and tell you about the silliness of the news story. I haven't made your morning coffee and tried to bring it to you. I haven't wondered if I could get you to sip some soup today.
I know you are not here.
I know you will never be here.
But I have been working for you, busy for you.
And now it is done, save one task; which has to wait.
And in the long dreary days; through the long dark nights; you are NOT and you never will be again, and it hurts.
It hurts, Rex.
A real aching agonizing physical hurt that is bored into my bones and oozes from my pores.
When I wake early and you haven't taken your medicine.
When I go to the store and it no longer matters what you might like, or eat.
When it's time to come home from the library or the gas station , and there is no one to call and say I'm coming home.
When I come home, and there's no one waiting and watching for my return.
When I sit alone in your front room.
When I close the door and turn out the lights to that same room.
When I go to bed and know that tomorrow will be yet another day of No you.
It hurts.
In a way, I am glad to feel the pain. It should hurt when going-on-thirty years isn't going to make it.
It should hurt when someone isn't there and never will be again.
It should hurt when no one loves you like that Other Person did.
I was getting worried that it wasn't hurting. I was wondering if I truly loved you the way I thought I did. I was wondering if you were a habit. Or something less complete and less important.
Now I know.
I did love you.
I DO love you.
There may be habit in the way we were together, but it was the doing that was the habit; not you.
Never you.
So, the pain begins.
It will dull, or I will get used to it.
It will change, because life's about changes.
But it will never go away.
Some things have to hurt -- surgery to cure is better than peritonitis; childbirth.
Some things have to hurt, and some things just do hurt.
I miss you so.
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