He cries daily.
How does one take his mind off the obvious hole that cannot be filled since rolling over and touching her cool skin, running to turn on the light to see if it really is true?
He mourns not waking in the night to kiss her just one more time, not giving her more flowers, the harsh words he used that week, saying, 'she's such a baby.'
My heart aches for him.
That Friday, I took him to Lowes and we bought dirt.
Lots of it.
Just the week before, I'd gone to my sister's and gotten a bunch of rocks to make a garden and now I knew why.
With emotions raw, we placed the rocks in the shape of a heart.
This was for mom.
A memorial to her.
Dad cut into each bag with his keys and I poured each in a heap and kneeling, leveled the soil so we could plant each specific one we bought that she would like.
I knelt, tears blinding me. He stood, crying, and repeated, "Oh she would love this. Right, Kathy?"
When it was finished, I stood and we held each other and wept. He placed the pinwheels all around because she LOVED them and would daily comment, "look how fast that one is going."
We left room for plants from her funeral service. I've since put in three more plants.
It is beautiful.
Like their love.
Lasting almost fifty two years, overcoming the lie that they would have been better apart because she was so stubborn and he, an angry man.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the photos he'd taken of her.
Then he would weep.
Watching him grieve is heart wrenching, but he must.
His best friend, gone forever.
Never to make her toast with jelly.
Bring her tea.
Talk to her.
Tell her he loves her.
He carries that phone with him everywhere...not to talk to anyone.
Just to see her face.
It took four days before he would sleep in their bed.
This is how I found him...
Only Jesus knows the depth of his pain.
I can't fathom losing my best friend of thirty years.
Life is a breath.