Stories

I'm on the other side of some of the worst of the grief, thank God. While I was in it I was so overwhelmed I couldn't put words to it. Now it seems important to try to describe what was happening to me.

First there was the constant realization - over and over- that he was gone. Not gone like he was out of town, but totally and forever gone. I would be thinking like I always did about things I wanted to tell him when he got home, and then realize that he wasn't coming home, and I wasn't going to get to tell him. It was as if I was storing up stories to tell. The were piling up and piling up until the weight of them was crushing me. Telling someone else wouldn't work because they were stories I could only tell him. I wanted to know what he would say; what he would think. There were more than 20 years of history that the stories fit in to. No one else knew the history.