I stayed at camp alone last night...the first time since the weekend after he died when I wrapped myself in his (still smelling of him) clothing and fell asleep. I didn't intend to stay there alone, but that's what happened anyways. When I realized that it would be me...alone...in the place where he died, I was a little apprehensive. I don't know what I thought would happen...maybe he'd come visit me in the place he loved best? Nope...just me and the mice.
I can't believe that, after 19 plus months, I'm still having these "firsts." "I should be used to this stuff by now" I say to myself. Isn't it time to sleep through the night? Isn't it time for the grief to go away? Shouldn't I be "finding myself" by now?
It kinda hit me at 3 a.m. I started dating him when I was 15. We were married for 35 years. "Finding myself" is not going to happen in 19 months. The kid who met and married the "bad boy" is not the same woman who raised him, and neither of them are the same woman who grieved his death. The woman who "gets used to this" will not be me.