one week later

... everyday is a battle. Everyday is hard. It is waking up every morning and convincing myself again that he really is gone. That it wasn't just a dream. It is laying in bed and crying till I am certain I can face the day, my family, and whatever new challenges lay ahead. It is the thousands of knots in my stomach making me feel sick. It is the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe. It is the burning from the river of tears that never seems to run dry. It is aching red eyes. It's runny chapped noses. It's in every pocket filled with kleenex. All these things I thought would be under control by now, and though they are better, it feels like it will never go away. It is wanting to call out to him to ask him some stupid question. It is looking at his workshop every morning and not wanting to move a single thing. It is the fear of repeating the actions of that night. It is the dreams that wake me. The dreams that haunt me. It is in the way I can't really talk about it. It is in the way I don't want to talk about it because that would make it real. It is the hole inside me, making me empty. It is the cards, messages, texts and hugs that even though they are in best of intention, just make me sad. It is seeing grown men cry. It is seeing all the people who loved him. It is finding out all the things that make him an even greater man than I ever could have dreamed. It is the loaded silence that now fills the house. It is that big green truck in the driveway. It is seeing my mother break down, numerous times a day. It is watching my siblings deal with their own greif in their own way. It is my own heart... breaking.... that is what hurts the most.
All the extended family is now gone home. Back to their lives. Back to normal. ...normal... I was never happy with my life. Always wanting more, and now, all I want is just a little tiny sliver of that "normal" and savor it. This last week has been hard, but I fear this next week will be harder still. The going back to school. Back to work. Cleaning out the garage. Cleaning out the workshop. Cleaning out his closet. Cleaning out the house. Some of it will be good for the soul... to get rid of all the crap we needed to go through for years but never got around to.... but then there are the things that will kill me. The things that were so him that it hurts to just look at them without him. It is his new presents he was so excited to recieve. It is the things he should still be using today. It is sweeping up the pieces and putting them back together to make something that hopefully will somewhat resemble a normal life. I am not looking forward to the next week... not even a little bit... not even at all.
Love, K