Throughout our lives, we acquire habits that we sometimes don’t realize we have until there is a drastic change in our lives. Since Greg’s death, I have discovered I have several old habits, all tied to Greg.
Perhaps the one I notice most often is catching myself listening for the sound of Greg’s truck coming down the driveway on a Saturday afternoon. When Greg returned home on a Saturday afternoon after golfing or gun trading, we usually went out to eat or riding around, most likely both.
I didn’t realize how many times a day I was in and out the back door at the shop and didn’t have to unlock it each time because Greg was at work, waiting for me to return with lunch or snacks, or just so he could leave for the day.
“Give me a hug,” one of us would say in the midst of a rough day. A hug to relieve our burdens and make them disappear for a few moments.
“Leave me alone,” I would tell Greg in the mornings when he got out of the shower, wide awake and ready to take on the day. I am NOT a morning person.
There are dozens of other habits. Tuesday afternoon I sat at Greg’s grave and talked to him about these habits, including the ones of his that I am taking on myself, like checking the doors at work three or four times before I leave for the day.
Old habits. Good and bad. They are threaded through the days of our lives.
One habit I will never give up -- loving Greg.
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