He can't tell us...
I'm getting off track. I read a grief article. It was about how part of you dies when someone you love dies. Yes thats true, half my soul died when Dan died. But this article has a slightly different take on it. It's not just your broken heart, it's all the stories the two of you shared together and only the two of you. There is no one else to fill in the memory gaps, no one to tell you your'e remembering wrong and my memory is really bad theses days, I used to have a great memory, it flew out the window when Dan died. I have thousands of stories that only Dan and I shared together, now I'm the only one who carries them, he's not here to tell me I'm remembering wrong or I left out a part. I'm sure there are stories I have forgotten all together that he had. Now these stories are only from my perspective, not Dan's and generally speaking I look a lot better in Dan's perspective then I do my own.
I miss his stories. he was the best story teller I had ever met. I'm pretty positive if he had written a blog about how his beautiful wife suddenly died on him, leaving him all alone to raise their child he would have a book and a movie deal by now. Also I would probably come off looking pretty awesome because he was great at finding the best in me.
But he's gone. He can't tell our stories anymore.
He can't tell you about how he got his friends to sneak a rose into his car for me on our fist date.
He can't tell you about how he was outside mowing the lawn right before our wedding.
He can't tell you about the excitement he was feeling when he married me or what he was thinking when he saw me walking down the aisle.
He can't tell you about the time my eyes shot out of my head because he came home and said "I bought a house" with out even consulting me.
He can't tell you about the time when I was 6 months pregnant and I got up in the middle of the night and fell down our stairs. and then how he was out of bed and "flew" down the stairs in 1 second to make sure I was ok. Or how he wanted to take me to the ER after that just to make sure I was ok and I wouldn't let him.
He can't tell you about how he cried with worry when I was in pre-term labor with baby girl and he was afraid for both our lives.
He can't tell you about after baby girl was born and I had post pardum depression and I laid on the kitchen floor and cried because I didn't want to wash another bottle. He can't tell you how he sat with me and stroked my hair.
He can't tell you how he used to make me laugh and laugh with his silly faces.
He can't tell you about the pure joy he had when baby girl was born.
He can't tell you about how he used to say his hand fit perfectly on my hip. How God made those two spots on our bodies to fit perfectly together. How we were made to be together. How it was his favorite spot to rest his hand. I'm pretty sure he never told anyone that but me. Why would he, it wasn't for you, it was for us. But now I'm the only one who knows that about us, so I'm telling you least I ever forget.
I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle
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