The thing about grief

is that is really is such a bitch. It's been nearly ten months since Adam died. I still cry every day. I cry when I wake up and remember he's gone. I cry a hundred times a day at silly, stupid things. It hits me. It hits me like I've been physically punched, and I can't breathe and it feels like my heart has stopped and I remember that I'll never hold him again. I'll never feel him at night, curled up around me, telling me he loves me. I'll never see him come through the door again, telling me something smells good, or yelling "MONKEY I'M HOME!"

How did this happen? How can he possibly have left me? Left everyone who loved him, and so, so many people loved him. He was lovely.

He hated me to touch his hair, for anyone to. I took a lock of it in the hospital. The organ donation poeple were so kind, I have his handprint, too. But I'll never hold his hand again. We always held hands, all the time.

Oh, God. I feel so broken, all the time. I want my life back. I want my husband. He's the only person who can make me feel better, and he's gone. And it should have been me. It should have been anyone but him. Not him.

And a hundred times a day I want to ask him things, how do I do this? Where do you keep that tool? I need this thing or that thing, or to sort something out, and it's heartbreaking because I can't ask him. I don't know what to do, and it takes me an hour to do something he'd have done in a minute.

And I try not to cry, because once I start, I can't stop. And I don't like to cry in front of the people who love me, who loved him, because they worry, and I don't want to add to their pain.
But I miss him so. It's a big, gaping hole in my heart, in my life, and I don't know if I'll ever be whole again.