Out Loud

Honey,

Do you know that sometimes I have to remind myself out loud that you are not here anymore? I still haven't gotten used to you not being here. Sometimes when I'm not consciously thinking about it, I still expect to see you sitting on the couch playing xbox when I walk through the front door. I have to remind myself out loud sometimes that when I get in the car to come home, I'm not coming home to you. Sometimes I have to remind myself and make an effort to remember while I'm laying in bed not to wait for you to come in and say goodnight. And when I say "sometimes", I mean more often than not.

I notice that you're not with me every Sunday when I'm at church and you're not sitting next to me. I notice that you're not with me every time I park in our spot and there's no one there to tell me not to park too close to the pillar so that the door won't hit it when it gets opened. I notice you're not with me whenever I go to the mail-room and open the door and check for spiders before I reach my hand inside. I notice you're not with me all the time, and all the time it's because I have to remind myself.

I hate having to remind myself of such a terrible thing. "Remember, Sean isn't here." "Remember, Sean isn't going to be home when you get there." "Remember, Sean isn't coming to bed because he's not here." I say these things to myself, out loud sometimes, because I still hope that you'll be there when I walk into a room or when I come home. Whenever I get a text, a little part of me hopes that it's from you, and of course it never is. And I have to remind myself, out loud sometimes, that I'll never see you when I walk into a room, come home, or get a text from you ever again.

I don't mean to sound depressing and to focus on what I don't have. But you're all I think about, and this is what I think about. I miss you, and I haven't stopped missing you, and I don't think I ever will. And when I miss you, and I remember that you're not coming back, there's very little left in the world for me to be happy about. And I refuse to pretend or put up a front for everyone else's sake. When they lose their husbands, they can come talk to me about how fast it takes them to be okay and non-depressing again.

I miss you every day, and I hate what that feels like. And I hate having to remind myself, out loud sometimes, that you're not coming back. I love you so much, and you're still my whole life. And even though I'm not sure whether or not I'll ever stop missing you, I know that I will never ever stop loving you, and that's just about the only thing that comforts me in any sort of way these days. I love you Sean. I love you, I love you, I love you.