This week has been rough, it is not an anniversary of anything, or a sadiversary since his death, but a few things this week have triggered me to finally recognize that this HAS happened and he is NOT coming home.
Sunday a friend of mine, who had never been out to where we lived, came out to pick me up. She walked inside our room and saw the hodgepodge of Blaine's stuff and my stuff mixed together. She looked down at a shoe rack under the desk and said "are all of these your shoes"
"No, most of them are his"
Then she looked in the closet
"Are those his clothes?"
"You really need to pack up his shoes and clothes Tiffany"
"I'll get to it when I move out"
In hindsight this really hurt my feelings. Where does she get off telling me that I need to pack up his stuff. I live in his room with his stuff because I would not feel right in a room not surrounded by his things..
Monday, my company started work on Blaine's headstone. This hit me a lot harder than I thought it was going to. I knew the time would come for them to actually start the cutting and sandblasting. I think the fact that I can walk back there any time I like and see the progress which almost makes it worse. It would be one thing if it was just... done and I didn't "get" to see it from start to finish.
Yesterday as I was driving home, I had the thought "I miss having someone who wonders where the hell I am, and why i'm not home yet" I miss having him call me, as much as it annoyed me at the time, RIGHT AFTER I sent him a message saying I was leaving the office.
"Driving, didn't I JUST tell you I was leaving the office?"
"Well I just wanted to hear your voice"
I miss those damn phone calls now..
He isn't coming home.. He isn't out there somewhere. He is gone, and there is no getting him back.