The other day I was talking to my dad about how much I missed John. I was having a down day. I have these frequently. And I am somewhat good at hiding them. Somewhat.
I told my dad that I was still in love with John.
He then told me this "you have to stop thinking of him as a reality and more of a memory."
This quote has been echoing in my mind for the past couple days and it just hurts to think about. John isn't a realuty.
But yet he is. He is very much real and alive. I had him almost 7 months ago. He was holding my hand and talking to me and kissing my face. He is still a reality. But, I can see my dad's point. All I have left now are the memories. I can't go home and kiss John's face anymore or hear his contagious laugh or cuddle him at night. This is no longer the reality.
Reality is that I am living alone in an apartment.
Reality is that I am re-learning how to live my life as a single, griveing widow.
Reality is that John can't come back.
Everytime I go to see John's parents I get another slap in the face from reality.
From the moment I pull in the driveway things are different. No gray cadillac. I walk in the house and and see pictures up of John....and I go upstairs to see that things are changing. Our room is now annie's room. there is no sign that we ever lived there. except john's closet with his suits and shirts and ties still hanging up. I opened it up tonight and smelled his work suit. I started to weep into the sleeve. The room where John died is now the twin's room. Two tiny sized beds and one adult single bed. Perhaps the one John died in? The room is happy. Filled with toys and little kid things. it is nowhere as gloomy looking as it was in April. I remember no one would really go into the room for a few months and NO ONE would sleep in there. I still don't think I ever could.
The changes in John's parent's house are reflecting the changes that all of us are trying to make. Small steps to making ourselves better. But, it is NOT an easy task... nor will it be without trials.
Thanksgiving is a trial.
Thanksgiving is going to hit hard.