2 Years Today

I sit here today, in my Rob’s big chair, reflecting on this day 2 years ago. 

This is the day that I last saw him smile.  I last looked into his eyes.  I last heard his voice say I love you.  I last kissed his lips.  I last held his hand. I last stroked his face.  I last hugged him and felt his arms tight around me.

This is the day that I took him to the hospital with covid.

30 days later, he left this mortal plane and the suffering he endured from covid ended. 

I sit here, wrapped in his big chair, with tears streaming down my face.  I look at my favorite pictures of him and recall each memory we shared that I got to take that picture. 

The one on the wall to my left is from our anniversary dinner out at Texas Roadhouse, and he looks so happy as he is picking at his fried onion.  His eyes are sparkling.

There are three on my right with his ashes.  One from our first trip to the Sturgis bike rally as we sat in a bar getting pleasantly drunk at 10am.  He had such a good time and got to cross that desire to go off his bucket list.  We walked around the whole thing, did some shopping, and he found a pair of winter riding gloves that fit his huge hands.  Something he had been looking for unsuccessfully for several years. 

The second picture is from a bike run we did with a bunch of other folks.  We rode the peak to peak highway in Colorado for that one.  The pic is from the potty and water stop we made half way thru the run.  He is standing with his arm around me, pulling me up against him as my arm is doing the same to him.  The day started out cold, got warmed up and ended with rain and hail.  And it was a perfect day I got to spend with him. 

The third is a wallet sized one of him during his senior year of high school.  I imagine it’s the same one in his yearbook, which I have never seen.  It’s the only time I have ever seen him without facial hair.  For some reason, he kept this in his underwear drawer.  It’s now out here so I can look at him.  I wish I had known him that far back, but I was not given that opportunity in this life. 

I miss him still every minute of every day.  I miss waking up to a kiss and a cup of coffee.  I miss him holding me close.  I miss our off the wall, weird ass conversations.  I miss his sweet kisses followed by hearing I Love You.

I’ve had it said to me that grief fades over time.  I’m here to tell you that for me, no, it doesn’t.  Maybe for some it does, I don’t know since I’m not them.  It still sits on my chest over my heart, an unceasing pain, since my Rob left this world.  If anything, it has gotten bigger as the time has passed. 

If the remainder of my life is what the past two years have been, there is not much to look forward too.  Honestly, I didn’t expect to still be here.  I have wondered why broken heart syndrome hasn’t gotten me yet.  Takotsubo cardiomyopathy is the technical name. 

This life is now just day to day existence.  And two years ago today, started the long slow slide into this hell. 

Until I see you again my love, I will always hold you in my heart and soul. I am eternally grateful to have you in my life.

Blessed Be