We didn't have long to get use to the brevity of Jerry's life. A week maybe. Even then, we all thought that the "ox of a man" that he was would somehow pull through.
Still through the news, I tried hard to stay positive and in the present. Now and again, while still in Boston, I would wonder through our house in my head, anticipating the emptiness, the pain. I could not bear to dwell there for long.
It is true that I feel the absence of my husband in the home that he built and the house we raised our children. Yet, I also feel peace. I am drawn here. It is familiar. It represents my life.
Like Lewis felt his wife's absence in everything and everywhere, I feel Jerry's absence where ever I am. I carry it with me whether I am in the car, roaming the halls of the high school or running into the grocery store for fruit and milk. His absence presents itself as a nagging, constant dull ache in the center of my heart. I am reminded of him while I am cutting fruit, baking bread or making the morning coffee. He is constantly on my mind whether I am brushing my teeth, putting on make-up or sweeping the floor.
I feel his absence all the time. Does this pain I carry thwart my ability to feel his presence? Or do I feel his presence in his absence?
1 comment:
I wish I knew that answer. A million reminders. That is what I think each day. Everything reminds me of Rob and why wouldn't it? Most of my adult life was spent with him.
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