There are mornings that I wake up from my restless sleep with an overwhelming sense of sadness. This was one of those mornings. I habitually reach across the bed and stroke your pillow as the reality sinks in once again that you are not there. Today I cannot shake the sadness no matter how hard I try to distract myself.
Certain moments are seared into my memory and come flooding back with unanticipated triggers. A places we used to go. A particular song. When I see roses. When I park my car and your place is vacant. I am never prepared for the emotional head on collision of these memories and the emptiness and sadness that remain after the reflections fade.
The one that haunts most me is the day that you died. That memory is with me constantly and I live in regret that on that day we were not able to talk. I did not want to make the decision. I wanted it to be your choice and I wanted to talk with you about it. That never happened and if I have any regrets about those days, it is that we did not get to have one last conversation.
I talked with you that entire day. They let me lie down next to you and, over the tubes and wires. hold on to you one last time. I begged you to let me know that I was doing the right thing I told you over and over how much you meant to me and how I loved you with my entire heart and soul. I begged you to send me signs to let me know that this was what you would want. You loved the color black so I asked you to send me black butterflies and when I saw them, I would know that you sent them to me.
I know you heard me. They told me that when I spoke to you that your heart rate increased and when I stopped, it would decrease. I know that you knew that I was there until your very last moment. This image never leaves of my mind and as painful as it is, I never want it to. It is part of our journey and it was how our earthly journey ended.
When I am in our back yard, I find myself looking for the butterflies or signs in the clouds that you are sending me messages. I always find a heart in the clouds and tell myself that you sent it. Whether you did or not, I like to believe that it is a sign from you.
Recently I found myself in a situation where I required some physical therapy. The therapist was warm and inviting and, as she worked on my back, I shared with her that you had died. She was so kind and compassionate and said that she felt your presence with us and oddly, I did too. She asked that I turn over to lie on my back and as I looked at the ceiling, it was filled with black butterflies! Dozens of them! It took my breathe away because I knew that you sent these to me! The tears flooded from my eyes and I absorbed with the overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by you.
Your absence leaves such a hole in my life and that can not be explained. I have given up trying to convey this to anymore. It can only be experienced, and I do not wish that on anyone. I do, however, try to live in the gratitude that we shared a wonderful life together and the blessing that you were to me every day that I had the honor to be your wife.
I love you