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Saturday, December 29, 2018

One year 12/19/18

One year. 365 days of grief. Hard to believe we've made it that long without you. I still expect you to be driving your truck home from school.

I feel weird today, like sad, but also some relief. Like it's going to be okay because we've come this far and are doing okay, some days even well. I feel sad knowing it's going to be a lot more years till I see you. Part of me wants to come home today to be with you and God but the other part of me needs to stay here to be with the boys, family and friends.

I chose joy as my 2019 word because I feel that it was missing from a lot of this past year. I did feel peace a lot over 2018 and everyone says I'm strong so my 2017 word must have been appropriate too.

I want love and support today but I want it every day not because it's been a year since you got to go home. I know you're happier there than you could ever have been here but I hope a part of you misses us. I hope you hesitated a teeny bit when God came for you. I hope He told you it would all be okay.

Thank you for being an amazing friend first, then husband and finally a dad. You taught us all so much and continue to do so. I know you wouldn't want us to sit around and mourn for you but you also knew me well for 25 years and know that dates are in my brain and that today would be hard.

I think I've surprised you. I think we planned that we would have enough money for me to take time off but then I would go back to work eventually. I think I've done better than either of us thought. I do worry about money but shouldn't because you said it all up so that I can live the same lifestyle we had.

I know right now you're shaking your head at me for laying in bed in tears, the amount I spent on Christmas this year and the boys for not helping around the house like you taught them, but I also feel your love. I know you are here with us even though we don't see you or hear you, except on recordings. I know you're watching over us waiting for our purpose to be fulfilled.

I worry about others and if I'm there enough for them. I want to be supportive of others grief but it's like I have a measuring cup and I only have so much to give to grief and I give a huge majority of it to myself and then the boys and there's not much left to give anyone else after that but it bothers me sometimes. I know this is really hard for so many people, the 700 people that came to your funeral and the hundreds that didn't or couldn't. I know they're hurting too and I don't know how to help them. I don't know if I should stop by and see those locally, if I should text or call those away from here because I know everyone wants to know how I'm doing and take care of me too. My heart breaks thinking of your family and friends and your colleagues, members of the church in the community.

Keep watching over us. I can hear you say "Suck it up buttercup" and also that you're good. I'm so happy you're not in pain anymore and that you don't feel old like you did when you were here. I'm so happy you experienced the ultimate joy every day.

I love you.
I miss you.

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