There are moments When the memory of Pete is so real, I could just reach out and touch him. Like today. There was a dad walking across the street. He was young, married. He moved in just before Pete got sick. I am not even sure we even got a chance to meet him and his family together. As I drove past him, I instantly saw Pete walking across the street in the same manner. He was wearing his favorite khaki shorts and his purple polo. He was so close. So close. I sat in Bible study tonight listening to a woman talk about missing her son, who passed in his teens. How she couldn't believe it had been 5 years since she had seen him. It's in these moments when I physically feel like Pete could walk across the street any minute that I too can't believe this is happening. Like can't I just wake up?
I sat down at my computer tonight with the intent of staying positive. Trying my best to see his life in the positive. To celebrate the man and not look at the life that was lost too soon. I put the computer on my lap and burst into a million tears. Sobbing, that I missed him so much. I am working at it. Really truly trying my best to stay grounded and not look too far into the future. Thats when the anxiety comes in. As if to remind me that nothing lasts forever. Even in this moment of sadness. I can take comfort, that it will pass. I can and do eventually stop crying. I do see the positive. And I do remember.
My anniversary is next Tuesday. The 26th of April. My" friend" suggested we go out to dinner. He said " Let's do something fun!" I was surprised, but grateful. Because really I had no idea what I was "going to do" That sinking feeling that "Oh no, another year without him has passed. Now what?" Instead, he is helping me to see the positive. Or what I want to move forward into. To celebrate Pete. The gift that he is/was. To look for the positive inn each day. And not the constant " Oh my gosh, this is what my life has become..." However Even though I strive for that I am realistic, that there will be moments like now where no matter how grateful I am that I am not in that place of barely surviving but that I really do just miss him so much.
I go back to the "How can this be?" moment. The man walking across the street. The waiting for him to come around the corner..The wanting to just reach out far enough to touch him.. And it makes me wonder. It makes this grief this pain so real, again. All over again.
I miss you Roo, Roo. I know, I always will. But I want to celebrate you too Roo. and I do, and I will. But for now in this moment. I really wish you were here...
I sat down at my computer tonight with the intent of staying positive. Trying my best to see his life in the positive. To celebrate the man and not look at the life that was lost too soon. I put the computer on my lap and burst into a million tears. Sobbing, that I missed him so much. I am working at it. Really truly trying my best to stay grounded and not look too far into the future. Thats when the anxiety comes in. As if to remind me that nothing lasts forever. Even in this moment of sadness. I can take comfort, that it will pass. I can and do eventually stop crying. I do see the positive. And I do remember.
My anniversary is next Tuesday. The 26th of April. My" friend" suggested we go out to dinner. He said " Let's do something fun!" I was surprised, but grateful. Because really I had no idea what I was "going to do" That sinking feeling that "Oh no, another year without him has passed. Now what?" Instead, he is helping me to see the positive. Or what I want to move forward into. To celebrate Pete. The gift that he is/was. To look for the positive inn each day. And not the constant " Oh my gosh, this is what my life has become..." However Even though I strive for that I am realistic, that there will be moments like now where no matter how grateful I am that I am not in that place of barely surviving but that I really do just miss him so much.
I go back to the "How can this be?" moment. The man walking across the street. The waiting for him to come around the corner..The wanting to just reach out far enough to touch him.. And it makes me wonder. It makes this grief this pain so real, again. All over again.
I miss you Roo, Roo. I know, I always will. But I want to celebrate you too Roo. and I do, and I will. But for now in this moment. I really wish you were here...