September 23, 2019: 8 Months


Eight months.


How can it be 8 months? How can it be over half a year without you? Yet it feels like it has been 100 years without you. And it feels like I just lost you.

It’s really hard receiving mail addressed to “The Estate of Teresa Grabler”.

It’s really hard telling new people I’m a widow and being asked when my husband died, and sometimes, when I then show them a photo of us, they cannot understand what they’re looking at. Why am I showing them a photo of me with a woman after sharing I’m a widow?

It’s really hard making all the decisions about this house without you. I want your input. I crave it.

I crave your hugs. I miss the safety of your arms.

I miss having someone right here with me who cares, who will comfort me when I don’t feel good.

I’m not used to having low shelves in closets, so I banged my left temple into one this past Wednesday. It really hurt, but the initial hurt faded to be replaced with a migraine level headache that lasted for days. I love choir, which I had the next night. But singing with a splitting headache is really hard, and I wanted to come home to your comfort, and there was no comfort to be had. Who was I going to tell that would genuinely care? Who could provide any kind of comfort that I so needed. Need.

There are so many parts to being a single person again that are just heartbreaking. And it’s totally, totally different from when you’re a single person because you broke up with someone, or if you were broken up with; and you know that the other person is still alive, and after awhile, you can still talk to them, still confirm things with them. But I can’t. And there’s so many things I want to, need to ask you . . . and I can’t.

Songs for this post. Sometimes the songs I record and share along with these posts will make sense to you. Some may only make sense to me, but . . . anyway.

“I will keep the colour of your eyes until no other in the world remembers your name.”  Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

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