Not alone ... just lonely!

I sat up last night with a dear friend - my grief journal.  I wrote, scratched out what I wrote, bawled and wrote some more.  I wrote "Today was good ..." *scratched out*  "Today was good ...".  "Today I thought of you as I stuffed the stupid bird."  *scratched out* "Today I thought of you as I stuffed the stupid bird."  "You would have been proud of me today." *scratched out* "You would have been proud of me today."  "Were you really with us today?" *scratched out* "Were you really with us today?"  I cried, then bawled.  There were no words. 

I so wanted the sweet feeling of release to wash over me as it always seems to happen when I write.  The more I write, the more distance I create from the process; the words written lay on the pages of my journal and I can finally close the journal when my pain has ebbed away.  I write away the pain.  The more I write, the more I can make sense of things.

There was no "making sense of things" last night for his death made no sense to me.  How could he not be here?  Why has he not come home yet?  Twenty-six years ago, I was a fiancé excited to be a wife in a few days - his wife.  How is it possible I will never hear his cultured voice again or know the safe feeling I always found when I laid my head on his chest.

I was back at reminding myself to simply breathe and that this too shall pass.

I miss him!

I miss how I was able to make him laugh.

I miss being his person, his woman and how I could make his moustache twitch.

I miss kissing him with no intention other than to feel his soft lips and knowing that I can.

I miss smiling at him and have him smile back like two Cheshire cats hiding some big secret.

I miss all that.

I miss you.