By the time today is over Michael will have been gone for 25 days, 600 hours.
During this time I have planned and attended the funeral and burial, looked over pictures, told and listened to thousands of stories, laughed and cried. I have eaten too many home-cooked meals, gained 5 more pounds, resumed Pilates classes and my daily time on the treadmill.
I have read countless cards, emails, texts and letters. I have had lunches and dinners with friends trying to keep me busy.
I have planned one trip out of town and have three others in the works. I have gone to three movies and 1 concert (I tried to go to another but was just too teary to go). I have watched more mindless TV than I have in the last 6 months. I have tried to go back to reading, but can’t seem to concentrate on it enough.
I have written some posts and blog ideas and lots of thank-you notes and I’ve even been offered some opportunities to do some other writings. I’ve been asked when I’ll go back to teaching Bible study classes many times, but still haven’t been able to come up with a good answer for the question.
I’ve avoided sitting in Michael’s chair because I can’t stand it and I’ve sat in Michael’s chair to find comfort; but I can’t bring myself to lay on his side of the bed. I’ve emptied the medicine cabinet and vanity of all his medicines, but I can’t seem to touch his clothes, papers or the Hummer.
I’ve returned to the blood bank at the hospital, but don’t know when I’ll be able to return to the ICU.
I’ve gotten through a day or two with no tears and just when I think I’m making progress the flood returns.
I’ve prayed and been prayed for.
I’ve remembered. And I’m already afraid of what all I’ve forgotten.