Your Smell

Dear Christopher,

Good morning, baby.  I miss you.  How many times did I send you that text message or you sent it to me?   It was always true, and I did miss you, although nothing like I do now.

I woke up this morning at 112, so sure I had a new text message from you, and you needed me.  I hear your text notifications in my sleep all the time now.  I had trained myself to always wake up when I heard it because I never wanted to waste an opportunity to talk with you by sleeping instead.  But where you are now, you can't text me anymore.

People tell me if I can get some sleep, you'll come to me in my dreams.  But so far you're just texting, and I can't read them.  I would rather see your face, baby.  One of the hardest things about this is that the last memory I have of actually seeing your face, you were almost crying, and I was.  Putting you on that train is something I will regret for the rest of my life.  Why did we do it baby?  We both knew it was a mistake.

I saw the behavioral specialist yesterday.  He assured me I'm normal.  But also told me I should really see a grief counselor.  I called and left a message with her yesterday.  I actually took that step myself.  Proud of me baby?  You know how much I hate making appointments...

Last night I watched tv for the first time since I found out you were gone. There was a wedding on the episode we watched.  It was hard, baby.  Why didn't we ever get to have OUR wedding?

I feel like so many things were ripped away from me when you died.  You were so young baby.  I wanted you at least 32 years more.  I looked forward to the future we were supposed to have.  I know you didn't think you wanted a baby, and thought Elliott was enough.  But for some reason, I always dreamed we would have one of our own, too.  I always had this picture in my head of us sending Elliott off to college.  And you were always holding our beautiful little girl when you hugged Elliott and told him to be good.   Now the picture has changed.  I hug Elliott and tell him to be good, and go home to an empty house.

How do I live without you babe?  I know I have to.  But it's so hard.  I feel so much bitterness and jealousy toward people who actually got to marry their soulmates. It's hard knowing I DID have one.  And he was mine for 113 glorious days.  But he's gone now, and I must live without him.

The shirt I sleep with doesn't smell quite like you any more.  My sister bought me "your" detergent so I can try to get it close again.  It's funny how that works.  By now you should have been living with me, and I would have been using my detergent on your clothes anyway.  But now I'll probably always associate the smell of Gain with you.

I hope you never ever, even for one minute doubted how much I love you.  Even on the hard days I never wavered from loving you with everything in me.  Even when you broke up with me, I loved you fiercely.  I hope you always knew that.

I love you so much it hurts.

Carla