The anger of last week faded away in the night. My mood was leveled out this morning, and while I didn’t have what could be called a happy day, it was calm.
I did a few odds and ends. I finished reading a book I’d been reading on all week. I did a little shopping. And I went to Greg’s grave to sit and talk to him a while.
Then grief crept in, starting with a few tears as I talked to Greg about things we had done, and my telling him that I miss him and will never stop loving him. The tears occasionally running down my cheeks I could deal with.
But grief wasn’t satisfied with a few tears. It wanted wrenching sobs and painful heartache to remind me of what I have lost and can never have again. I endured them, for what else could I do, and right now am feeling washed-out and exhausted.
And wanting to drive and drive and drive and drive until there is no road, no place to go, nothing in sight but emptiness. What I would do when I got to such a place I have no idea. I most likely would have no choice but to turn around and drive back home.
Home. A house filled memories. Memories of Greg. My Greg. Who will never again be there when I get home, no matter how many miles I may drive.
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