This is difficult, this packing up of our house. I gave many of his clothes to his brother. That hurt. What to keep, what to box up...all of it to cry over. And then I found a composition notebook ( I do a lot of my writing longhand) that was used in the week following that day... Notes about the pastor, the service, people's impressions of my dearest one. And a letter I wrote to him a week afterward.
Today I went to bed at 4:30, instead of waking you up. There are no arms around me, no whispered,"I love you" and "midnight goose"... This morning there wasn't any coffee to pour, or lunches to make. No waiting for you to say "books, keys, lunch money" so I knew it was time to kiss you before you left.
Leonard you are/were my life...and if it weren't for our children, I would gladly lay down beside you. I cannot bear the thought of the years stretching out without you and our much talked about plans. I told you last Saturday that we would have to die on the same day because I could not imagine me---without you. Sunday, my worst nightmare came true. And I was right.
I look back at that writing (and cry with the fresh pain of it all relived) and realize it is still true. I'm not me anymore. I am not screaming and shouting and thinking deathly thoughts anymore. But I am not the girl he loved anymore. I had to reinvent myself in order to breathe again. Because I was right. That me would have died right there.
Gosh... this is a hard, hard job. I wish I had a team of 100 instead of just 1. I wish I was Jeannie and could just make it so in one second flat.