Twelve mornings

How did I get so lucky?

That was a thing we would ask each other. How did I get so lucky? How did I manage to keep you? How is it that I am lucky enough that you love me? Me, with all my insecurities, my self esteem issues, my constant worrying and doubt... how did I get so lucky?

And he told me that he was the lucky one, that he felt lucky that I loved him. And we both meant it, I know.

I still can't believe that I had such good fortune, I still can't believe how blessed I was. But right now, in this moment, I don't feel at all lucky.

I made it through the memorial, but it was definitely not a comforting turning point. If anything I feel loss even more deeply now. We are on day 12. Twelve mornings I've woken up without him. It's getting harder, I think, with each morning. Harder to imagine that he's not here, harder to get through they day. Harder to accept that it's real, he's really not coming home. I am doing my best to keep myself busy and as long as I can do something that requires all of my attention I am okay for a few minutes. But then my attention drifts, and I fall apart again.

More errands to do today. Up early for that, but I have a feeling as soon as that finishes up I'll just spend the afternoon bundled up in his robe.