Tomorrow

Tomorrow I’m going back to our home to start packing up our life together.

You’ll be pleased, the first thing I’m taking is your record collection, my dad bought special boxes, I’ll look after them. They feel like part of you, the only part I have left.

The thing is with me here, it feels like you’re there but when I get to the house it will be empty. It isn’t our home anymore. There is no you anymore, it’s just me and our old pup. She looks for you, she’s miserable without you too. I hope she has plenty more time in her because when she leaves me that’s the end of our little family. Her age is showing though. The vet says it’s time to stop her daily walks because the arthritis we were expecting in her knee started to rear it’s ugly head as soon as you left. We were supposed to face that together but you left me to do it on my own.

Packing our life up seems impossible, we were supposed to have so much more of it ahead of us. The decorations I started making for our wedding are still sitting in the basement. Pots for the flowers you wanted on the tables because that was important to you.

I can see your National Lampoon glass sat in the cabinet from here, the break in the nose that happened last Christmas, I have to box it up and put it away because you’re not here to use it this year.

Your dad messaged me this week, we’re burying your ashes on the 19th. It feels like it’s all happening too quickly. How can you be going in the ground before you were even my husband? How can I be packing up our stuff for storage rather than the house we were supposed to buy together? How can you be gone before we had a chance to be parents? You said in your goodbye that you thought you would make an OK dad, you would have been a great dad, you would have taught our children how to understand the world with consideration and empathy. You would have given them your love of music and I have no doubt your giggle too.

I grieve for our lost future as well as our lost past. Tomorrow I have to start facing that it’s really gone, that the house is as empty as I am without you.

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