Nine Months and No Recipe

To TBHITW:

So. 

If I was having a baby the nine month mark would be the grand finale. Instead, it is a tick on the calendar. No new life. Nothing to celebrate. 

In two hours, nine months ago, you died. Nine months ago I heard your sweet voice for the last time; as usual I said I love you, and you said I love you back. And then there was sleep. The official date of your death is August 11th. but we know you died about 9:30 on the 10th; but you were officially pronounced dead in the AM hours of the 11th. 

How am I doing since you left? Well, spring finds me overwhelmed. The yard, the gardens, the cleanup after a long, hard winter has me working and working and working. I miss your presence with me in the gardens, in the yard. I'm doing the best I can. 

I had the pond opened. All the koi and goldfish survived the cold winter but no baby fishes this year. Perhaps it was just too cold. The pond looks beautiful. I set the two chairs out near the pond's edge but it hurts too much to look at them, let alone sit there. I remember the warm nights we would carry a cocktail out and sit in the midst of the soothing sound of water, the soft glow of the lights under the ripples of the waterfall and enjoy each other. 

I planted tomatoes and basil and eggplants and green beans. Not as many plants as before, it's only me now. The asparagus survived the winter and I will soon be cutting fresh green stalks. 

I've been working on the flower gardens, cleaning up, pulling weeds, raking out the last vestiges of leaves. We will have sunflowers and daisies and cosmos and gladiolas and dahlias and butterfly flowers and zinnias and bachelor buttons and petunias and geraniums; just like always. But it won't be just like always will it? 

I miss you. I struggle everyday, in every way, to move forward. I am grieving as fast as I can but I wonder where I am going. Where does it all lead? Does it lead to you? 

I miss you. I miss your gentle humor, your great puns, your helping hands. I miss your smile, your strong arms when I needed a hug, a hole dug, a weed pulled. What part of me were you not a part of? None. You, my love, you were my everything. 

I miss you Jim. I miss you with every bone in my body. You've been gone from me for 9 months now, how is that possible? How is that sane? How could the universe not know that this would be impossible? 

I love you sweetheart. I think of you everyday. EVERYDAY. I am trying, really trying to make a life without you, but truth be told it's not much of a life. Breath in, breath out. Wake up. Go to sleep. Not much to write home about. I hope where ever you are it is a happy place. Better than here. 

I miss you. What else is there to say?

Love,

me.