90 days

Three months today since God took you away. Which means 90 days without seeing your face. 2,191.5 hours without feeling your warm embrace. 131,490 minutes without hearing your voice. I am still waiting for this all to be some kind of bad dream. To wake up and head over to your house to make you breakfast. To ask you how your night went and how you slept. Instead I wake up to the realization that you are gone. It’s a heavy truth to swallow every time I open my eyes. Some days it’s the motivation to make me get up and go because I can’t just sit there and be sad all day. Other times it’s the reason I stay under the covers and hide from the world. I never know how my day is going to go anymore. The smallest things remind me of you. Either they bring a smile to my heart or tears to my eyes. It doesn’t matter the time of day or who is around. If something hits me in a way where all I can do is let the tears fall they will. Some people can’t understand why I still hurt for you. To me that is a silly question because I will always hurt for you. I hurt for you before you were even gone. That’s what people fail to realize. It wasn’t the fact that you took your last breath that tore me apart. It’s the way you suffered before you died. How you weren’t you anymore. I saw all those changes when they slowly started happening. Knowing that it was out of my control and that it was only just going to get worse. I understood how helpless you felt. I saw the sadness in your eyes. You told me everyone hated when you would cry. I told you to go ahead and cry in my arms. All I could do was be strong and hold back my own tears for you. So that you could be strong too. I always had faith that a miracle would come and save you. Now I just have to have faith that I will see you again one day. Until then I miss you more than I can ever say. I love you more than I could ever show.