#6

The long holiday weekend has come and gone without you. I survived. It sucked. No two ways about it. I hated looking out at the lake, the neighbors on the beach with their picnic tables all set up and their paddle boards and beach balls enjoying their time together, but mostly I hated seeing the sun shining on the water. Every time I looked out, all I could think was how you would have been chomping at the bit to get out there on the boat…or wait, maybe that would have been me…

Either way, you’d have clapped your hands and yelled “yeah, baby” and started to grab the cooler and the boat bag and started to decide which snacks we had that were good for a long day on the boat. We would have talked about the plan- where did we want to go, would we take the dog (we have to take him for a little while and let him swim and then maybe bring him back…), when would we hook up with the other lake friends and where, what did I want to drink, how much should we bring, could I be convinced to have a margarita day?

And all that fun planning and organizing and zest for life is what I missed so much this weekend. Like I said in my eulogy- a black and white world where once there was color- this weekend was gray and dull and empty and wrong. The knot in my stomach won’t go away- like someone gut punches me each morning and the feeling lasts all day.

Each day gets harder, more real. They came and got your truck and computer, phone and all that yesterday. That was hard. Final. All these empty spaces where you used to be.

Andy emailed me yesterday and I emailed him back last night. That got to me too. I think it highlighted just how much we’ve lost, not just in the last few weeks, but since you lost your job… a whole social circle, gone. I told him I missed seeing him and Leslie each year- and it’s true- I really don’t think I realized how much I enjoyed those trips each year. Anyway, of course he wanted to know if there was anything they could do…like every other person…and you know, the things you want to say, I don’t know, you just can’t…

I wanted to tell him to go hug Leslie and tell her how awesome she is (cause he really hit the jackpot with that one), and do something fun she’s been asking to do, and hug her while thinking about how lucky he is to have found her, and make love to her. But you can’t say all that because it’s like showing someone all the deepest holes in your heart. The things you are grateful you had or did or knew. And saying those things is like cutting yourself and watching for the bloom of blood as it starts to bleed.

I miss you

Luce

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