I've said this so many times since you died, but I will say it again, I wish you had known how loved you were, how many people appreciated you, how many people needed you, and how many people you impacted. I wish you could have seen yourself through my eyes. I wish you would have been able to love yourself the way that I loved you. The way that our children loved you. So many people miss you. It's hard to refer to you in the past tense. I hate it. It hurts and if there is one thing I am tired of, it is hurting.
There are many empty spaces in my life now that you are gone. So many holes. Nathan shaped holes that can never be fully filled again. There is an empty space on the couch where you used to sit beside me, your hand intertwined with mine, while we watched friends or talked about our days. There is an empty space in our bed where you laid beside me, my head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat lulling me to sleep. I still can't bring myself to sleep in the middle of the bed. I stay curled up on my side and hope that maybe I will wake up from my nightmare and you'll be beside me. I know you won't be, I'm not delusional, but I can hope, I can wish, and I can dream. Mostly, there is an empty space in my heart. It is empty and it is hollow. It feels as though I could say your name and it would bounce off the walls of my insides. I feel empty and when I say your name, it falls flat because there is no one beside me to hear it anymore.
I looked at the house that I told you about yesterday. The one you did tile work in. It's beautiful. I think I am going to make an offer. I feel pain just thinking about it though. I don't want to live in a space that you've never lived in. It makes everything that much more final and that much more real. I should be mad at you. I should be so mad because when we married I told you my only rule was that I die first. You agreed. You agreed and then broke that rule and yet I still am not mad at you and I think I've finally come to the conclusion that I probably won't ever be.
Your dad text me today and let me know that the funeral home called. The draft of your headstone is ready. I read that text and felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. A headstone. I should be planning for our Christmas vacation to my sister's. We should be watching Christmas movies and wrapping presents for the kids. We should be talking about New Years and all our plans for 2017. I should not be by myself and I should not be approving your headstone. I am not looking forward to tomorrow and taking yet another step in this journey that I never asked to be on.
I still do not understand why. I still struggle with the what ifs. I struggle with a lot of things actually. My life has been permanently altered and not for the better either. Although I know that my pain will never go away, that it may never even get better, I am holding out hope that it will get easier to carry. Until then I am reminding myself to breathe. In and out, in and out. It's the only way to get through a full 24 hours.
I love you. I miss you. Forever.
Always,
Jess
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