The Evolution of Missing You

Dear John,

 

We have heat again. The new igniter had gone out. It worked for eight days. I do hope this one has a longer life-span. The very nice repairman let me look over his shoulder and ask stupid questions, so I had  a lovely morning.

 

I never did run errands in Goshen. I've been flaring this week like I always do when I go to church after working Friday and Saturday. So I looked and the grocery list and decided I'd make it a bit longer. I had leftover stew for lunch, took an over-an-hour nap, then proceeded to roundball overdose. I watched Kentucky beat Arkansas and Duke beat Syracuse. I got a lot of knitting done, had a long lovely phone conversation with Jen, had a good sports day, and did all of it in a warm house. Life is good.

 

There seems to be some evolution in this widowhood thing. You know it was hard to adjust to being on my own in practical ways - learning to use the trimmer, working full-time again, doing the finances and taxes, keeping the house and yard by myself, dealing with things like the furnace going out. Today I realized that now I take that stuff pretty much in stride. I seem to have adapted. I didn't mind dealing with the furnace without you, but I so missed spending the day with you - talking and shopping and watching the ballgames. I'm accustomed to having to do the things you used to do. What I miss is you. I don't expect to ever get accustomed to that.

 

This says it: I will stop missing you when I am with you. No matter how proficient I become with the trimmer, taxes, and appliances, I will miss you just the same. Know that I'm doing fine in the practical realm, and I have plenty of back-up when I need it. But don't forget that I will never be complete again until I'm with you.

 

Missing you more than I can ever say,

Joan.