I still quake with sobbing. It isn’t fun. But none of this is. I miss you. I love you. Being able to have the last thing I said to you as “thank you for everything” works for a goodbye. But it wasn’t supposed to be a permanent goodbye.
I never wanted to lose you like this. I wanted us to be together when the other one passed. I wanted it to be in the same nursing home or in our bed. Not in the in between stages of us. Where we were finally going to get this right and be together. But you died, knowing that I was getting better so there could be an us. The final us. But we didn’t get that far. And I ache for that. For us to prove everyone wrong, finally. For us to have nothing in the way of being us. But we will never have that now.
Now I talk to air. I have full conversations with air hoping you are standing by me. But I don’t know. And I am desperate to know.
Wherever you are, I love you. So very much.
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