It’s been seven months (and one day) since my love left this earth for whatever is next. We’d been together for 13 months. In February of 2015 (the 14th ironically enough), he will have been gone longer than we were together. I try to find consolation in the fact that we did pack what many would call an entire lifetime into those months we had together. I try to find consolation in the fact that he did keep his promise to me to love me for the rest of his life, but I seem to be stuck in this “we only had each other for a little over a year” place. Yes we packed a lot into that year and I am aware and appreciative of all of that – – of every single moment I spent as Danny’s love, but…
I want more than 13 months. I want more than months period – I want years. Lots and lots and lots of years.
I want a lifetime of pictures of us to look at – pictures of us growing old together to place in the album next to the pictures from when our love was young and new.
I want memories of being hand-in-hand sitting on the front porch swing, strolling together down memory lane.
I want pictures of us on his 60th birthday (which would’ve been this last May 26th). I want pictures of us on May 26th, 1921 – what will be my 60th birthday.
I want more memories.
I want more pictures.
I want more time.
I want him. I want him back. I want it to be December 10th again. I want him to come home with me so I can keep an eye on him and take care of him. I don’t want him to be gone. To be dead. I hate that word. I want him back. Here. With me….
…and that’s just not going to happen.