I think it was today. You and I were sitting on the couch, and talking about stuff. You had just gotten home from work, and hadn’t even taken off your shoes yet.

How we got onto the subject of your life insurance I cannot remember. I only remember telling you that I didn’t want to even consider it. I hated the idea of you being gone, and I’d rather be broke with you, than stable without you. But you made sure that I’d be ok, no matter what.

It hurts to think of. That we spoke of the changes you made to it in March, only days before you died. It hurts to think that the night before you died, I KNEW there was something wrong. You only acknowledged that something was around the corner. And it scares me to think that the ONE time you “felt” something, the way I do, you were excited for it. Maybe that means you truly are in a much better world, where understanding is complete and you know how this is all going to end. I hope that means you know I’ll be ok. That the girls and I will make it there, to be with you.

But I get scared sometimes. I get scared of waiting so long that I’ll forget. I get scared of how simplified memories seem to become. I get scared of how people seem to let things yellow and age in the back of their minds, with their lives expanding so far past the point where you existed. I will never forget.

How do I become happy again? How will I ever let this go? I cannot imagine it. To me, it seems I will always be missing you. And this will always hurt. That I’ll have to live my entire life, however long it will be, with a hole inside of me. That I’ll always be wounded.

I don’t want to be a victim of nothing but the harsh side of life. You wouldn’t want that for me, either. But as much as I try, I cannot see me happy without you. And I hate this. I hate this part of my life. The hurt is so deep, that the good parts become bittersweet. You should be here, sharing everything with me.

I don’t know why I haven’t given up already, but I don’t think it’s in my nature to do so. I just fight constantly with myself. Life can be good, but not like it was with you. It’s a rule that I have to either break or find my way around, and I haven’t been able to do that yet.

I miss you. I cannot say it with enough emotion or depth to describe what I actually feel, but my love for you could fill oceans. Wish you were here.

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