It's so not right without you here. It just is (or isn't.)
Last night, I should have been coming home from work (if I was working) and got busy setting up Easter baskets for the kids. I should have been standing at the table, sorting out the gifts, sharing out the candies, arranging the contents, while you sat there commenting on everything and eating all the Reese's eggs. You should be sitting there suggesting places to hide the plastic eggs, and digging through your stashes for dollar bills and quarters to put in them. Some of your suggestions -- most of them -- would be silly. A few would be genius.
You should be here to see the children find the eggs and to see their faces light up when they discover the surprises inside.
The table was there, the candies were there (except for Reese's eggs), the special gifts for the babies. The baskets -- not our purchase, though. There was even a leftover basket for the grown ups.
Everything was there.
Except you.
It also wasn't our home. That, too, is gone.
We have no home, but then, there is no us.
I guess we don't need one.
I've missed you so these last few days. It breaks my heart that I couldn't "pull a rabbit out of the hat" and get those babies some Easter outfits. It just breaks my heart.
And I am heart-sore without you. If that heart break had happened, it would somehow not be so grievous if you were here to share it with. Although, had you been here, it wouldn't have happened. You would have figured something out that I couldn't.
Not being you, I don't know what that would have been. But there would have been something.
Heart sick, heart sore, and heart broke -- just another holiday for this one you left behind.
Last night, I should have been coming home from work (if I was working) and got busy setting up Easter baskets for the kids. I should have been standing at the table, sorting out the gifts, sharing out the candies, arranging the contents, while you sat there commenting on everything and eating all the Reese's eggs. You should be sitting there suggesting places to hide the plastic eggs, and digging through your stashes for dollar bills and quarters to put in them. Some of your suggestions -- most of them -- would be silly. A few would be genius.
You should be here to see the children find the eggs and to see their faces light up when they discover the surprises inside.
The table was there, the candies were there (except for Reese's eggs), the special gifts for the babies. The baskets -- not our purchase, though. There was even a leftover basket for the grown ups.
Everything was there.
Except you.
It also wasn't our home. That, too, is gone.
We have no home, but then, there is no us.
I guess we don't need one.
I've missed you so these last few days. It breaks my heart that I couldn't "pull a rabbit out of the hat" and get those babies some Easter outfits. It just breaks my heart.
And I am heart-sore without you. If that heart break had happened, it would somehow not be so grievous if you were here to share it with. Although, had you been here, it wouldn't have happened. You would have figured something out that I couldn't.
Not being you, I don't know what that would have been. But there would have been something.
Heart sick, heart sore, and heart broke -- just another holiday for this one you left behind.
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