Grief is a circular staircase; but am I going up or coming down? ~ CS Lewis

In general I feel better these days. I don’t cry every day. I don’t feel absolutely terrible every single day, but when the grief does come, and it does, it still feels like a hard blow to the solar plexus. It takes my breath away. It pulls me down deep and I want to curl up in the fetal position or stand on a mountaintop and scream and scream and never stop screaming.

Yesterday I found these pictures of Michael at his job. He was smiling and I knew, from what he was wearing, exactly where we were living at the time the picture was taken. Then he had some pictures of his motorcycle and his boat from California. The house was drenched in sunshine. I thought, “We were happy then…” but we were happy everywhere.

The next thing I thought was how long it’s been since I talked to him. Some days he is the only one I want to talk to; the only one that matters. And the one who is not here.

My car needs repair and I need to make decisions about it. He did all my mechanic work for 12 years. I miss that reliability. I miss having someone to trust about what is that noise under the hood or do I need new tires. I miss not having to worry about those things.

On most days I talk about him a lot. I keep him alive. I say what he would say in response to something. I remind people of what he said about different things. It warms me and usually makes me laugh.

Other days I clamp down in silence. Afraid to go there because I miss him so much. When I’m doing television or radio I hear his voice in my head, “That’s great, hon, that’s great.” or “Great as always hon.” which is what he would say. Did say. I try to comfort myself with his words of encouragement, but it stings that he isn’t here to enjoy it with me. He would be so tickled about it all.

Still other times I want his counsel. I know that most times I didn’t ask and he would cosign any decision I made but sometimes he would have an opinion on it…and if he cared enough to opine on it, then I would listen. And he was never wrong.

I miss my best friend and my love. I miss having that strong and steady presence in my life.

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