Month

Month.

It’s been a month and I’m shocked by the sheer physicality of missing you. 

I knew I would miss talking to you. And I do. But I also miss just being in a room with you. Sitting next to you. Being around you and all that entailed. It’s not at all just your voice. Its your presence. It’s all of you I miss. 

I’m homesick for you. My whole body feels a little sick. Low appetite, low energy, low motivation. Teary eyed a lot. Thinking of memories a lot. A dull ache. Sometimes a sharp pain when triggered. Homesick. Momsick. 

We made it a month. This is the only way we would ever make it a month not speaking or seeing each other. 
We had June’s party last weekend. We did just what she wanted. I can remember her talking to you and Dad about it at Thanksgiving. A Pokémon party at the bounce house with a cake for Papaw too. “Six and sixty!”, she said. It hurt badly not having you there. I like to think you saw and were so happy to see her happiness, to see that we did it! We got her party done. It gives me strength to know it’s what you would want. You always wanted the focus to be on the kids. You always wanted each one of us to feel so special. 

I can remember the last day I felt I was really talking to you and you weren’t confused. It was Tuesday evening. You were sleeping a lot, but when you woke, you were yourself. You were sleeping and I was sitting next to you holding your hand and you opened your eyes and saw me and smiled and immediately said “I love you!” and then went back to sleep. That is a wonderful memory for me. 

I spoke to you again the next day when you woke, but your brow was furrowed in confusion. I can’t remember the last thing I heard you say with certainty, but I do remember one of the very last things. It’s all a bit of a blur around that time. 

Blake, Dad, and I were standing around your bed Wednesday evening and talking and not sure if you would speak again. You had slept all day and you seemed different than the day before. Less alert. You woke confused and we rushed around you and Dad stroked your face and said,

hey sweetie.

“What’s happening? Was I crying?” 

Yes, sweetie, last night you were crying but you are better now.

“Oh.”

You gave a very confused face followed by a determined face. You looked at all of us.

“That must have been scary. Y’all are being so strong.”

To which we all smiled and told you,

no, YOU are being so strong. We love you so much.

And you smiled and went back to sleep. You talked the next day to Blake and Dad but not to me because I was with June for her sixth birthday, a decision I made knowing it’s what you would want me to do. Then you stopped responding. Two days later we lost you here on this earth. 

I know the last thing I said to you. I said it so many times as you slept and repeatedly when we were alone or before I would leave. We said it hundreds of times those last months, as we held hands. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so much. 

I do remember you saying I love you as being the last thing you said just to me. It was a happy I love you. 

When you stopped speaking those last couple days and would just open your eyes and look at me for a short time, I would say “I love you” and then eventually added “I love you and I know you love me” because there were times it seemed you wanted to speak and couldn’t and I wanted you to know I know. 

And I still know. You love me so much. 

I love you so much. I miss you. I ache to be with you.

Erika