The Door

I still think you are going to walk through the door and tell me that this is all just some serious fucked up mistake. I still think that I can come home and tell you about my day. I still think that I can hug you.

I came home last night after a week-long vacation with a bunch of people. It was relaxing and wonderful but I shut down my mind. I do that a lot lately. Afraid that if I think about you or us being on that beach together will just send me over the edge. I still walk that edge. Even after 10 months. It’s there and I’m teetering along it. One foot in front of the other just hoping that a slight breeze doesn’t blow…

I’m not sure how people perceive me. If they think that I am handling all of this well. That I am getting my life together and that I am coping. I wonder if they think I should be over you by now…

It is hard though to go on with a life that you had absolutely no choice in living. It is hard to make choices that you thought you would never have to make in the no-choice life. I will say that if it wasn’t for our son, I would have never made it this far. The only time I feel remotely un-empty is when I am around him. Otherwise, I am just this shell of a person. Living a life that I have absolutely no idea how to live. I’m tired of being without you.

Going on this trip…I allowed only a few moments where I told myself that you were not here to live this with me. That you were unable to take part in our life anymore. That all of these dreams and opportunities were taken from you. And it just drills in the fact that you are dead.

A person that I thought would live forever. Is dead.

I always thought I would die before you. I never thought that I would have the strength to go on without you – even if I died at 90.

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