Dear Gregger –
This is my first letter to you in Year Two. But it is significant. 13 months. Your lucky number. You. A “triskaidekaphilopheliac.” One who loves “13.” Most people cringe at the thought of 13. Not you. You picked the unlikeliest of numbers and made it the BEST. So you. I believe it is OUR lucky number. This is going to be OUR month. The month of lucky. Good things to come. We’ve hit a few bumps. That’s to be expected. You’re not here. Life is different. We’re still adjusting. Every day.
Here’s my reality.
- I wake up every morning and face the challenges before me. I smile. I laugh. And I keep moving on. What other choice do I have?
- I’ve paid all bills regularly. On time. You taught me well. Thank you.
- I’ve actually kept a balanced checkbook. Are you surprised? I am. I knew that would make you smile. Again, you taught me well.
- I’ve handled B.S. I don’t have your patience. I wish I did. I’m trying.
- I still hate Sundays. They are so lonely without you. I miss our walks. I miss sitting at Starbucks. I miss talking to you. Bottom line. I MISS YOU.
- Nighttime. Quiet. Dark. Lonely. I want to see your smiling face. Hear you chuckle. Hear you snore. You’re not here.
- Songs on the radio. They remind me of you. Love. And what we had. Together. I want to hold your hand. Have you hold mine.
- Another new season of TV shows started. Some you would hate. Others we would watch together. I miss that. I want you here to tell me how much you hate reality shows. I would love to hear you complain. I’d still watch them. With or without you. But now it’s just without you. And it sucks.
- I’m learning to be me. I think you would be happy. And even a little proud.
- I’ve had to go with the flow. Learn to adapt. I had to give up my “planning ways.” They don’t work. You’d be impressed. We learned that the hard way. Right?
- Losing you hasn’t gotten any easier. I don’t think it ever will. It just gets different.
- Life goes on with or without me. With or without you. So I might as well keep going with it. It goes too fast. And I don’t want to miss the rest of the ride. I just wish we were still riding together.
So 13 months. Our lucky time. Good things to come. I hope you are happy. At peace. I’m getting there. But I miss you. I always will. Keep smiling down on us. We see your shining light and feel the love. Thank you. I love you Gregger.