I missed my boy so much last night.
Every once in a while I'll let myself really think about it, and it's terrifying. The depth of my sorrow is just terrifying to me. I can go along for weeks - never forgetting of course, but managing like a normal person - and then one day it all collapses in on me and I'm so struck by the enormity of it all I can barely function.
I guess it's self preservation. I can shut it down and proceed normally for only so long. Then I need to really touch base with the pain, let it wash over me and soak it up before I can dry off and carry on again.
I suppose this is healthy. I dunno. But it's worked for all this time so I'm just going to assume it's healthy for me. If it ain't broke, right?
I'm not entirely sure why today was the day the roof caved in. I guess it was just time. A very minor disagreement with My Beloved ended with me sobbing quietly in the office while he slept last night. And, just to be clear, It wasn't a cry-worthy disagreement. And quite aside from that, I was the one who was wrong. But I ended up sobbing just the same, and missing Thomas so much I thought my heart would break.
When I'm upset, it all ends up coming back to Thomas, and whatever tears I'm crying end up being tears for him. There is, after all, a pretty enormous pool of sorrow to draw from.
Every once in a while I wonder what that sorrow will feel like in 10 years, or 20 years or when I'm 75. I wonder how it will manifest itself in my daily life then - when Thomas has been gone for 40 years.
God, that's such a long time to miss someone, isn't it?
And there's that feeling of terror again...
I'm just going to remember that tomorrow I'll probably wake up feeling like myself, having thoroughly doused myself in all of this today, and I'll carry on like I have for the last 16 months. Because what other choice do I have, right?
I can only keep walking.