Sunday, June 24, 2012

25 Months today


25 months today. 25 months after we started dating we were already living together and planning our life together – forever. Now, I am miserable. There is just no other way to put this. I hate this. I miss John so much. I know I keep saying that but it’s true. This life is meaningless to me without John in it. I know he is still here with me in the best way he can be but it’s not the same thing. At least not for me.
I dreamt about him yesterday. I know it was just a dream because I can’t even remember it now. But I do remember waking up and thinking John was here and everything was all right again. And then I remembered that he wasn't here. It took a few seconds to happen this time, longer than usual and those few seconds were heavenly. Everything just felt like it was the way it was supposed to be. I was at peace. And then I remembered how things really are and I was so so sad. Again.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

To be with you

Had lunch with a dear friend today and we talked of John. And shared tears.
Missing you so much, Sweetheart.


Monday, June 18, 2012

Armload of cats

I just love this picture of John. He loved our babies so much.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Happy Father's Day, John!

The kids and I miss you so much. You took such good care of us and there wasn't anything you couldn't make or fix.
I love you, Baby.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Two years, three weeks

I am struggling. Now that I am past the two year mark, I think it is finally sinking into my brain and heart that John is really gone. The sadness seems worse. It seems to have seeped into my very being and is a part of me all the time. I just feel this profound sense of loss that is like nothing I have ever felt before. This man who knew me for half of my life, who was my best friend, who loved me as no one else did or will, who understood me as no one ever did or will, is gone. G.O.N.E. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
I feel so lost.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Just some thoughts

Yesterday I went shopping with the woman who is making the memory quilt for me. We went to buy fabric for another border, for the back, and for the binding of the quilt. She has done such a fantastic job. I can't wait until it's completed. It's going to be beautiful. She is making such wonderful little touches to it. It is truly going to be a quilt that speaks of John.
Not only was it special to be shopping for the material but it was good to talk with this woman too. She too is  widow. Her husband died several years ago and she truly gets it. I don't mean to sound snobbish but only another woman who has lost her husband knows what it really feels like. Maybe because it's the kind of pain that there just are no words for.
Yes, I can try to convey here what I am going through, what other women in my position are going through. But I think it might even sound melodramatic to read these words unless you have been there. And then sadly, it all makes sense.
Nothing prepares you for the enormity of this loss. Even now, two years later, I still can't believe that this has happened to us. We had such plans, we were looking forward to growing old together and now it is all gone. All gone. With no hope for going back. Nothing I do, nothing I say can change what is. That is the heartbreak. In other situations you can work to try to change or fix a situation. But the lack of hope is what is so overwhelming. The fact is that no matter how well I do this grief thing John is never going to walk through our door again. As I go through my day I think I try to not let that really permeate my consciousness. Yet, every so often, especially at night, I allow myself to really understand what that means and then I am shaken to my core and I sob as if it happened just a few minutes ago.
When I was a young child, I couldn't wait to grow up. Now I am grown up and I can't wait to die.

Friday, June 1, 2012

John still talks to me

Is it too weird to say that John still talks to me? Well, maybe "talks" is the wrong word. He still communicates to me. He gets his point across and sometimes he even answers questions for me.
When I'm really missing him or needing him I see a sparkle. It says to me "I'm still here and I still love you." Maybe that's just a little thing but it happens often and I find it very comforting.
Then the other day I was driving along and wondering who of two possible handymen that I knew should I hire to do some work on our house. John always did most of the work on our home and I always trusted him in that area. So, I talked to John as I was driving along and I asked him what I should do.
Then, the light turned red and I stopped. There was a car in front of me and I looked at its license plate. You know how some license plates have a metal surround? Some have the name of the driver's alma mater, or maybe a cause they are passionate about. I don't know what the connection was in this particular license plate jacket. All I know is that the first name of one of the two handyman was sitting there on the top of the license plate on the car ahead of me right after I had asked John for advice.
Then there was a recent airplane ride. I have never travelled well. I'm not good on planes. John had always kept me calm. Especially during turbulence. This particular ride had lots of turbulence. I was trying to read on my iPad to distract myself and not having much success. So I closed the iPad for a minute. The turbulence increased and I decided to try my book again. I opened my iPad but instead of my book being opened for me to read, somehow my contacts list had been activated. And whose contact was staring back at me complete with picture? John's! Out of all of the possible entries in that list, why his? It could not have been just chance. No, to me it meant "It's OK. I'm here. I'm with you." Exactly what John would have done.
I love these messages from him.