Paralyzed in thought

It's not hard to just find myself sitting, staring and thinking. Then it's difficult to break away.

We went to the farm in Clare this weekend (Matt's grandparents). The weather was most perfect. It was nice to be around family. But it was a new place without Matt. The last time I was there, we were together. Each new place without him is like another grieving process. It's like sub-grief; grief within grief. I was missing him terribly. I kept thinking about the first time he took me there. Kept thinking about how we should have been walking the property, holding hands. I have no one with whom to hold hands anymore. No one to hug, no one to kiss. No one to love like I loved Matt. It was all taken away in a heartbeat. I'm incomplete.

I know I've mentioned that I write to Matt in a journal. I wrote to him while I was upstairs laying with Chloe this weekend. This is probably a good glimpse at the types of thoughts I had so here is a part of what I wrote to him:

"Then I imagined you saying, 'I'm going to go check on Steph,' because that's what you would have done. Then I imagined you coming up the stairs, around the corner and your handsome face appearing in the doorway. You would have come lay on the bed next to Chloe so that she was between us. Just to talk."

I oftentimes wonder when my time will come and whether or not one tiny decision will ultimately lead to my death, like with Matt. I am sure that will fade over time but right now, I think about it. I just find it amazing. What were the odds?

I chose to wear Matt's cross all weekend. I usually wear it when I'm traveling. Actually, I always wear it when I'm traveling. I run my fingers over the indentation. I look at where it rests on my chest and think about how it was directly touched by the object that took Matt's life. I am fascinated with the fact that the cross was hit directly in the center. I found it fascinating from the first moment I saw it. Almost as if it were a sign from God Himself.

I hadn't cried intensely since the funeral. Until tonight. I think a lot of things just rose to the surface and I sobbed. Normally, I will weep tears and lightly cry. Ugh, it is bittersweet to cry like that. I know it's healthy but it also hurts. I guess it's a good kind of hurt. I think I involuntarily hold it in, especially since I'm around one or both kids 99% of the time and busy fulfilling their needs. If it's not that, I'm busy with some other task; anything from insurance paperwork to laundry. I have a never ending to-do list.

As I sat in this chair, crying uncontrollably, I lifted my head and my right earring fell out. That is weird because they clasp in such a way that it's like a hoop. It happened one other time when it was my last day packing in North Carolina. These earrings were a gift from Matt. I believe he got them for me for our one-year dating anniversary. I haven't taken them off since the funeral because I wore a different pair for that. But I wore them since the day he died up until then, too. Maybe it's just a reminder? A reminder that he is here and he loves me just as much now as he did when he was alive. It's the little signs like that... they keep me going.

When I was driving to the school to pick up Noah this afternoon, I saw a young couple walking down the sidewalk holding hands. All I can really think when I see things like that is, "They are so lucky." So lucky. What I would give to have Matt back. I'm empty-handed. I don't think anyone realizes how truly lucky they are to have that hand to hold unless they've lost it. How would they? There is no light without darkness. It's true, you don't know what you have until you have it no longer... when it becomes what you HAD. So the best thing that can be done in the present is to cherish and love with all your heart. It's the best thing that can be done. I still wish I would have treated every morning and every night like it was our last. And I'm sure it wouldn't have made a bit of difference because even then, I would still find something else to regret. It can never be perfect.

There is no perfect way to say goodbye.