Why I cry...

I have cried a few times in the last few days.  I cry at weird times.

1)  I cried when I updated my calendar for a Valentine's Day chocolate fest.  Mostly because whenever my dad has single children, he gives them Valentine's gifts.  So I guess I might be getting a Valentine gift this year.  See, it makes me cry just writing about it.

2)  I cried in choir last night when the director talked about each person is important in their individual sphere.  I don't know what about that makes me sad.  I think it is because I actually feel pretty useless right now. 

3)  I still cry in the car when I think about driving Paul to the hospital the Friday night before he died.  I play over and over in my mind, how resigned he was to going to the emergency room  because his temperature was high.  He hung his head in the passenger seat.  I could feel his sadness, and it hurts me to remember that.  I wonder if he knew.  I wonder if he was just too sick to care. 

4)  I cried when the vacation calendar got to me.  I remembered last year as we planned out what we would do with my time off.  As I planned out what I would do this year without him and try to make some sense of it all, I was brought to tears.

5)  I cried when the stake president said that some women in the room were just trying to get through each day.  I quickly told myself that it wasn't me.  I am a super hero mourner.  But then realized that I truly do just try to get through each day so that I can move on to the next, without purpose, without excitement.  I am happy and sad at the same time.  Blessed, but lonely.  Full of gratitude but lost as to what to do with my life without Paul. 

Yeah, so that is my story right now.  Not a blubbering mess, but someone drowning in the mire of mourning.  Feeling as if I am sucking air through a straw as my head goes under.  Yet, somehow, someway, knowing that I am OK.  Just surviving and feeling blessed to be at least that good.

Who can I whine to about my cold?

Yes, my world still revolves around the fact that Paul died.  I think daily, hourly, and every minute about how he isn't here with me anymore.  My thoughts aren't always sad or lonely, sometimes they are filled with the joy of knowing that I am loved completely.  Other times I am bouyed up by my knowledge of the resurrection and that we will be together sooner than I think.  Yet, there are those times that I absolutely yearn to tell him my thoughts.  I want to let him know how happy he made me.  I want to tell him that I had a good or bad day at work. I want to tell him how ugly I feel trying to figure out what to wear without him.  I missed the embarrassing large amount of presents for me under the tree this year.  Who will fill my wardrobe with ridiculously expensive and abundant clothing?  And more importantly today, who will listen to me whine with my "man" cold.  I want to go moan around him and let him know that I have a miserable stuffy nose and can't stop sneezing.  NO ONE ELSE in this world cares about this stuff.  BUT HE DID.  And I miss it.  I can handle anything with him, and without him I struggle.  Sorry, downer post.  Happy New Year!