Nobody but someone in this situation would understand what I'm about to share.
I feel crazy, but grief is crazy sometimes. My husband has been dead for almost five months, but I need to call him. I have something important to tell him.
It's related to something in the news that we talked about and followed, and I know he'd really want to hear this latest development. It isn't mainstream enough that anyone else would care; it's just a quirky little thing we shared between us.
Knowing that I cannot call him then makes me realize again that we will never have those hours-long talks about everything.
Gilbert was an attorney, tennis player, jazz trumpeter, bike rider, fountain pen collector, and voracious reader. He also had a photographic memory, so he could remember the date of everything. He had a wicked sense of humor.
I've wanted to call him so many times in the last five months with pen questions or tennis questions or important news.
I would give anything for just one phone call.