I miss you.
Tomorrow is Robert's birthday, and he's nervous. He's afraid your not being here is going to make him sad. He's right. And I'll do the best I can to walk with him through the pain and anger because he doesn't understand. What he doesn't realize is even if he did understand, it wouldn't help.
I understand a lot about us, about the separation, about your dying, and I've still spent the day in tears and angry.
Last night I rolled over and reached to your side of the bed to feel where you were so I could scootch up to you. I still miss the feel of you, the smell of you. I miss how I wrapped my arm around you and you would wrap your hand around mine and hold it to your chest.
Pretty silly, huh? I mean, it's not like you'd be here anyway.
Still, I miss you.
It's March Madness, and I printed out the brackets, but I haven't watched a game. It's not quite the same when I don't have someone screaming, "Did you see that?" with me. I miss your arms flying up in the air and your yelling, "OH MY GOSH!" when that last second bucket hits and overtime is either created or avoided. Your whole face lit up. I have never known anyone who could get so excited about teams they cared nothing about.
Flowers are coming up in the front flowerbed. I keep looking at the zinnia bed. I need to work on it, but I can't even make myself walk over there. In fact, the very idea of working in the yard at all exhausts me.
The kids and I do clay and paint a lot. Never was big on the clay, but even less so now. I really miss playing games, but that is something the children strongly associate with you, and they aren't ready. I understand, so I either pinch a piece of clay and just chat with them or I read. Of course, they miss your reading to them. Me, too. I liked your voice. Your reading was always so soothing, especially when you read Winnie the Pooh. :-)
Robert decided he doesn't want streamers and balloons for decorations this year. Honestly, I'm sort of glad. You always did such a good job with the decorations. I would have done them, but it would have been so hard. Sort of like when Meg Ryan is talking to Maverick, and she says, "Goose would have flown without you. He would have hated it, but he would have done it." I would have hated it, but I would have done it.
And, yes, I know. It's not like you would be here. Not like you would be with me. But there are things we really got right. The children and letting them know they are special and important and amazing...we definitely did well there. We certainly knew how to celebrate them, didn't we?
You were a wonderful dad.
You were a wonderful man in a kazillion ways...and today, I really miss you.