There are times that I torture/comfort myself thinking of all the things I would say or do if Jeff “came back”….or was at very least able to hear me. It’s a little game that hurts and heals simultaneously:

If you were here,

I’d slap you for not going to the doctor sooner.

If you were here,

I would curl up safe and warm in your arms.

If you were here,

the kids would know their daddy in reality…not just through the stories I tell about you.

If you were here,

I’d make YOU mow the lawn.

If you were here,

I would never, ever let you go.

The imagining of our conversations and interactions somehow makes him “real” and closer again….But it also stings when I allow the loss to sink back in. I wish I could just exist in the state of imagining him walk through the doorway, laughing at the dog’s slobbery kisses and the way I jump up and down with glee at his arrival.

I don’t know if this practice is beneficial in the long run…but for now, it’s a way to hold him still. And imagine what life would be like if the worst had never happened.