351 Days Without You

Dear Rusty,

It’s 1:08 p.m., Friday, September 11, 2015.  Almost to the minute one year ago, we sat in our dining room with the representatives from the Center for Hope and talked about pain control and what hospice service was.  I remember that you didn’t feel well enough to sit through the entire meeting with them and excused yourself, returning up to bed.  Little did I realize at the time that Isabel, one of the people visiting our home, would one day be the moderator of one of my grief group meetings.  I don’t know what the hell I was thinking — or NOT thinking is probably a better way to put it.

How has almost an entire year gone by?  It is so unbelievable to me.  I never thought I would be able to survive one day without you, let alone 361 days.

I dreamed of you last night a few times, more than I have this entire year and it felt so good.  During one of the dreams, we were lying in bed on our sides and I was in front of you.  You were spooning me and I woke up briefly and had the harsh realization that you weren’t really there.  Once again, my heart broke in pieces.

I went to Florida this week for Chris Garry’s wedding to Matt Holzer.  I was so nervous about visiting with Lenore and Jimmy because it meant that I was going to be driving almost 2 and 1/2 hours from Orlando Airport to Bradenton.  Guess what?  I did it.  The car rental agency upgraded me to a little Mercedes Benz convertible and I think that made the drive a little easier for me.  But I did it, hon.  You would have been proud of me.  I had a nice two day visit with them.  They were so warm and welcoming to me and I promised I would return to stay with them this winter for a week.  I am hoping to be able to do it in January. I had a good time down in Florida, probably the best I’ve been in the last year.  But when the door to our house opened and I walked into that empty place, it was like a giant slap in the face and I returned to reality — my life without you.  I am so dreading this Tuesday.  If you can, you need to send me the strength and courage to get through that day.  I am sure it will be like a video rerun in my mind over and over all day.  I don’t want to remember the day you left me.  I want to remember your smiling face and how much we loved one another and all of the good days.  I need you, babe.  You need to send me peace and courage.

Loving you.



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