Last week marked two months since we got the terrible phone call.
I’m still working this whole adjustment. I’d have to say I’m doing okay most of the time.
But I think about you.
All. The. Time.
Lately, when I leave work & still have the urge to call & tell you about my day, I think of how our conversation SHOULD be; I’ll tell you how ornery Nolan still is, and how much Aiden is loving preschool, and that I’m feeling so much more comfortable in this pregnancy while cruising through the second trimester.
And then I think about what you SHOULD be telling me—how much better you’re able to get around now that the knee replacement is behind you, how you’re NOT looking forward to going through it all again on the other knee, how stinking HOT this summer has been, and how much you’re looking forward to fall.
The SHOULD BEs are what kill me. And there are so, so many.
You SHOULD BE enjoying the close proximity of the Vegas, since now you're only separated by 5 minutes instead of 9 hours.
You SHOULD BE telling Megan how fantastic her photography is every time she shares a new photo.
You SHOULD BE shaking your head at the fact that we’re producing a FIFTH grandson—nary a girl to be seen.
You SHOULD BE sharing in Abby’s pride at reaching her goal weight before she turns 30 next month.
You SHOULD BE cooking a fantastic dinner for John & Dad as they finish their hard work fixing up the barn on these sweltering summer weekends.
You SHOULD BE enjoying evenings with Dad, and shaking your head that you’ll celebrate 38 years of marriage this November.
You SHOULD BE the first person I call every time I have a pregnancy update, or silly joke from Mike, or new Aiden-ism, or crazy stunt by Nolan.
You SHOULD BE…here.
But you’re not. And obviously that’s no one’s fault; it just is.
And it sucks. Especially when I think of the SHOULD BEs that haven’t happened yet.
The one that hurts me the most is that you SHOULD BE there hold little Justin on his birthday, just as you were there to welcome his brothers.
I know on some level that you ARE participating in all of this—sharing in our joy, and in our sadness.
But how I wish you were still here in the flesh—to answer my phone calls, to greet me on a Sunday visit, and to give Dad a dirty look when he asks “When are we having cake?” :)
I guess the adjustment to living life without you is ongoing.
Even if I don’t think it should be.