Sunday morning, 3 April 2005 [7:30 a.m.]:
Honey, I just woke up to a beautiful day and, of course, my day began with thinking about you. I know this huge hole in my heart is only ever going to be filled with scar tissue, if it ever is filled at all. (And it’s not because of anything you did or didn’t do.) I’m not sure why I am hurting so much but I have some ideas. Of course, the main reason is because of who you are, your special mix of qualities and strengths and personality. It’s because of things about me – I’m a thinking/feeling person and I have to feel and to know things. It’s because we were at the beginning of our relationship with so much ahead of us and, because of that, I don’t have a long history of memories to fall back on and to sort of buoy me up. So I have all these questions and needs and wants and now they are not going to be filled. Like your Grandpa’s photo that you were looking for to send to me – like as if Alison would send anything to me, least of all something like that! Like I did want a photo of Alison, her husband and your nephew and nieces in front of Boxcar, I wanted a photo of you from when you were in grade school. (I could add them to those funny old pictures of you from when you had your hair all long at the back. You know, honey, you look so sad in some of those old photos.) I’m so glad that you did wind up in your later years having so much fun and it was so very special to me that you chose to celebrate your life with me like you did. I thank you, my Grizz.
I have to go – not good to start out a day with so many tears. But then, I haven’t had my coffee yet so no bloody wonder. Which makes me wonder again what has happened to that “coffee” embroidery that Alison made and had framed for you. I hope she kept it or that somebody did – maybe your daughter. (And it is just too cool that your daughter distributed your ashes like she did – you guys were close and I think that was a very fitting thing to have happened and will be a comfort for her. I hope she is coping well and isn’t grieving like I am. It certainly is a comfort to me for Don to have let me know what happened.)
OK, time for coffee. Then I’m going to let down my hair (it’s in a big single braid right now) and have a nice, leisurely shower and wash it. And then go pick up the moving van and start the move. When you look down and see us having a bit of trouble with the ‘fridge or whatever, lend us some heavenly muscle, OK?
Miss you, my big, strong, complex man. Love, always –
I have to go – not good to start out a day with so many tears. But then, I haven’t had my coffee yet so no bloody wonder. Which makes me wonder again what has happened to that “coffee” embroidery that Alison made and had framed for you. I hope she kept it or that somebody did – maybe your daughter. (And it is just too cool that your daughter distributed your ashes like she did – you guys were close and I think that was a very fitting thing to have happened and will be a comfort for her. I hope she is coping well and isn’t grieving like I am. It certainly is a comfort to me for Don to have let me know what happened.)
OK, time for coffee. Then I’m going to let down my hair (it’s in a big single braid right now) and have a nice, leisurely shower and wash it. And then go pick up the moving van and start the move. When you look down and see us having a bit of trouble with the ‘fridge or whatever, lend us some heavenly muscle, OK?
Miss you, my big, strong, complex man. Love, always –
- S.
P.S. I just heard a cockatoo calling.
posted by Susan @ 10:35 am
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