Times Does Not Heal All Wounds

The emptiness fills my soul.  The sadness fills my body.  Work is a distraction that keeps my mind busy.  But as I sit here at home, I look around at those things that were his, that were ours, and I struggle to grasp whether he was really here.  The physical reminders that he existed are all around...in his clothes, in his workshop, in the things that he bought for our home.  These are all evidence that he was here.  But how can he really be gone?  As I closed the door last night as I headed to bed, I'm reminded he hung that door.  It is physical proof he was here.  So how can he be gone?  How can I be here all alone?

And as time passes, I realize that there are now things in my life that Ed was not here to be part of.  Stupid things like doing Zumba or my Fitbit or a new TV show I enjoy watching.  Or the new people in my life who I've met through our common grief.  They are all evidence that Ed is not here with me to share things with and that time continues to march on without him.  For over 30 years I shared everything with him--from the littlest of things to the grandest--and now he is not here to share anything with and that breaks my heart.

Joy no longer fills this house or my heart.  And it hurts too much and it's difficult to breath.  I want to reach out and touch him.  I want to hear his voice.  But none of this exists.  Was it real or was it all just a dream?  The evidence of his existence is this house, is the love he filled it with, and I have pictures to prove he lived.  Dan is living and breathing evidence that he existed.  So why when I look at his things and photos of him, there is a hollowness that hurts so bad.  I beg him to show me a sign he is still with me, to come to me in a dream. But it doesn't come.  My soul is empty and I am engulfed in sadness.  The pain is deep and time is not healing these wounds.