Grief sucks

I miss Gordon so much today. His shirts have surfaced. A friend had offered to make quilts with them, just a few weeks after he died. But, she never got around to it, as she had her own stuff to deal with this past year. But, she returned them. Oh, man, a big bag of emotions followed.

And, a picture of Gordon and our daughter, that I had enlarged, is more than I can bear. I got it done for her birthday. She loves it, I dissolved into a blubbering mess. All I can think of is how lucky I was that I had Gordon as my husband and how unlucky I feel now. I loved him so much.

My fear is I will turn into that old lady on Walton's mountain, the one that kept pining away for Ashley Longfellow, or whatever the hell his name was. I remember thinking she was so pathetic. But, here I am, sitting in her parlor, pining away too.

Gordon is with me every, single day. How do I reach out to him? Where is he? I know he's here lately. I know it. I expect to see him, walking into the house, closing the garage door, dropping his keys in the 'bowl'. He'd always say, 'Hey babe'. I remember gathering mail from or mailbox and he'd drive into the driveway, wait for me, with arms outstretched to hug me. Did I realize what that is like? Did I know then what that gesture is so missed? A husband waiting for his wife to come home.... outstretched arms. A hug. I'd give anything for a hug like that. When he was home, I felt at home, too. Hearing everyone in the house sleeping, snoring, whatever, always gave me comfort. Dogs asleep, kitties in the windows, the kids rolled up like burritos in their beds, and Gordon asleep in my bed. I could settle down and sleep, knowing all was well.

Dammit, this is so friggin hard. Tonight I went to the relay meeting for the relay in June. I was wearing my bandages, as directed by the physical therapist. I felt so visible. People looking at my big, fat arm, all bandaged up. And, the comments. And, then, my surgeon asking me why I had the bandages, the same woman who told me I'd be dead in 18 months ... that was 2 years ago, I just felt so alone in that room. I wish Gordon had been there with me. Then, no matter what, I'd never be alone. Dammit I hate this. This mourning stuff sucks big time. When does it get better? Does it get better? Will I get better?

I just dunno.