I know he is dead, of course I do. It’s how many times I lose him every day that trips me up.
I am becoming used to the empty pillow that punched me in the stomach every morning when I woke up. I am no longer shocked at the empty chair.
It’s the unexpected little things that wound, the smaller losses that I become aware of several times a day. The jar of jam that I can’t get the lid off, the entrance to the park where we had picnics. The gardening gloves that last held his hands.
Forgive me if I have already posted what happened last week, I still have that mental fog.
I went to the supermarket, did my shopping, loaded it into the boot, took my trolley back, and walked back to my car. I got into the passenger seat, and then said to an empty space “What are we waiting for?”
Torture. Xx
5 Likes
I cant answer what we are waiting for some miracle that it was a very bad dream maybe. The little things get me each time like been able to water the plants , go up to bed alone , i struggle all day everyday it so hard sending us all hugs for today Jo xxx
1 Like
So sorry, that is heartbreaking.
Rose xx
1 Like
I did a similar thing a while back
when as I left the house I called out to him “do you want anything at the shop,”
Hurts like hell doesn’t it
X x
2 Likes
It sure does hun more than words could ever say. Xxx
1 Like