Coming home

January 11, 2011

I pulled into the driveway today after my day and I sat there, as I often do.  I watched the sky, cloudy and gray, watched the trees, watched the squirrels jump from branch to branch and sat in silence.  Sitting there was easier than walking in the door.  So I sat for a while, thinking about how much has changed.

Last winter, my baby waiting for me on the porch

I hate coming home.  I hate it. It is not a home.  It is house, where I stay.  But it is empty and cold and depressing.  I hate walking in day after day knowing that I will never walk into him waiting for me again.  The pain is so great I want to howl, I do howl.  But I can’t howl loud enough to scare the pain away. 

Where is the feeling of peace and relaxation I use to get?  Where is the reaction of my body instantly relaxing when I walked through the door?  What happened to living with Chris for the rest of my life?

Some people think if I move, it will be better.  It might, but it doesn’t change the fact that I will be walking into a house where Chris isn’t living.  Some people think I should get a roommate.  That might help, but they aren’t Chris and I want Chris not someone else.  They won’t know our jokes and routines.  They can’t give me the amazing unconditional love, the true security and realiability, the happiness, the joy that Chris did.

I am so lonely I am choking on it. 

There is no solution.  Chris can’t come home. 

All I can do it feel it and greive his loss.  All I can do is cry and howl.  All I can do is close my eyes and imagine Chris and God holding me up as I do.

I love you so much baby.



One Response to “Coming home”

  1. Lisa Says:

    I am so sorry for your loss and pain. Such lame words, I know, but sadly there isn’t a whole lot I could say that would make things better for you. As much as it feels impossible to you, I do think you will someday find your rainbow. Until then, hold on and keep writing. People care.

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