A week. Seven days. 168 hours. No matter how you want to look at it that is how long you've been gone.
I've made it 167 hours longer than I thought I would that first day. And still there are times when I feel like it still hasn't sank in. My text tone goes off, and I expect to see your name. I see a funny meme and I save it to show you. Only... I can't anymore. I'm strong, because you didn't give me any other choice. The memories make me smile, but they make me sad too. Because we won't be making any new ones.
I've cried over the stupidest things since you've been gone. The frozen ravioli we never got to deep dry just to see how they would come out, the asparagus I had gotten to make you soup before you got sick. Today it was over the damn block of mozzarella cheese you asked me to get for you.
In case you were wondering, I'm still furious with you. If I had known a week and a day ago that would be the last time I would talk to you, see you, hug you.... I would have demanded you go to the ER. No, it might not have made a difference, but at least I would know I had done everything I could. You took that choice from me. But its hard to stay angry for long when I'm consumed with sadness for all of the things we have lost.
I love you, today, tomorrow, always.
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