Hello Dead Husband,
There are days,
days like today,
that are not special days,
just regular, boring, rainy days,
where my heart wants so badly,
SO BADLY,
to be able to
talk to you.
To tell you things.
To lie in bed with you again,
and swing our arms back and forth,
as we hold hands,
and act silly,
and sing our silly songs,
to the kitties,
that we made up.
To make fun of everything,
with you,
together,
and laugh so much,
while staying at my parents house,
that my mom says to us at breakfast:
“What on earth were you two giggling about last night?”
Everything.
Nothing.
Life.
We giggled about life.
There are days,
like today,
when all the ways that I CAN talk to you,
like writing this blog/letter to a dead person,
or saying your name out loud,
or remembering something about you,
About us,
in the silence of the room,
Are not enough.
Those ways,
in which I can talk with you,
are just not the same.
Not the same,
as having you here,
with me,
laughing,
cuddling,
hugging,
ALIVE.
Six years. In July, it will be six whole years since you died, sweet husband.
There are some moments and hours, where I still cant believe it.
Some days and months where that pain goes from dull,
back to stabbing.
Where that feeling like Ive swallowed a nail, keeps returning,
Some days.
And though I know you would be proud of me,
for all the things Ive done so far,
with my life,
to help others,
and help myself,
and try and make some sort of sense,
out of your senseless death,
I know that you would also be annoyed,
with how people have treated me.
With how Ive had my heart broken,
time and again.
You would be saddened by that,
by the idea that I have suffered more heartbreak,
and that I still havent found,
my someone,
the someone who thinks I light up the world.
The someone who feels lucky and honored to have me,
and I feel the same of them.
I know how much you want that for me.
You would be the one giving me that,
if you could.
Because you did that every day.
But now,
now you can’t.
Now you are just a fleeting thing,
a thought,
a memory that goes in and out,
a part of me forever,
that not many understand.
You are a thing,
that lives in my heart.
You are a voice,
that only I can hear.
Faintly.
So very faintly.
You are a thing,
that inspires me to live,
when I dont much feel like it,
because you do not have that same honor.
To LIVE.
I guess,
what Im trying to say,
My Dear, Sweet, Dead Husband,
on this kind of rainy and unimportant day,
is that I miss you.
Oh god, how I miss you.
I miss our life.
I miss you breathing near me.
I miss having that kind of love,
and knowing,
without question,
that you would give your life for me.
That my joy meant everything to you.
And that I would always be safe.
There are some things happening,
lately,
in our family,
things I cant talk about publicly,
because its not my place to do so,
but when these things started to happen,
all I could,
the ONLY thing,
was how much I wanted to talk to you.
Just you.
Nobody else.
I wanted to lie in our bed together,
and dissect the world,
like we used to.
To share our fears and our wonders,
and to know,
we have each other,
always.
I want that again.
That feeling.
That knowing.
Grief makes you tired.
And then,
all of the searching,
makes you tired.
Searching,
for that something beautiful.
Searching,
for that next great love.
Searching,
to discover my purpose,
why I was left here,
and you werent.
It will never make sense to me,
because it doesnt.
It just doesnt.
You are the kindest soul I have ever met,
Sweet Husband,
and I will carry that with me,
through all of my days,
and Beyond.
I love you.
I miss you.
And I wish I could tell you stuff,
in the way that I want to.
I will live,
I will thrive,
I will BE,
a force of good,
and I will BE love.
But I will never,
ever,
stop missing you.
Not ever.
And some days,
like today,
that missing,
is taking up all the room,
on my canvas.
I love you.
And I will always say,
In a million different ways,
Hello ….
