Maybe sharing some thoughts will ease the ache, give my memories a voice, and help to soothe the desperate depths of sadness that overwhelm me at times.
Summers were "our time". Living over 9 hours apart, I didn't get to see Todd as often as I would have liked. So, when I went home for the summers, we would make the most of our times. There were the random drives that would take us over the quiet roads of our county, through the picturesque turns of Letchworth Park, and passed so many beloved places. We would talk some, but mostly we would sing to the music that was always loud. It was just part of riding with Todd. All the while, our eyes would be peeled, looking for deer. It didn't matter if they had horns or not, we would talk about what they could be- come hunting season.
Then there were the campfires, movies at the Drive-In, and welcome trips to the City. Each memory was special, as I always knew the summer would end and we'd be living so far apart again.
This summer, there will be no new memories. It has been almost 2 months since he has been gone, and I still feel like the loss is fresh, almost as if we are just finding out again. I still want to pick up the phone to call him and tell him stuff. It could be anything that prompts this feeling before I have a chance to catch it and deny its fulfillment. I would have called him last Sunday to tell him about the little, baby deer Kevin and I saw. He was probably less than 24 hours old and was following Kev around, squeaking at him insistently like he wanted some attention. Todd would have liked that story, and been in awe at the pictures. I would have called him two nights ago, to tell him Amos was up a tree, and that we didn't know how in the world to get him out. He would have had an idea, and then would have wanted us to call him back and let us know how we made out. He would have been proud of Kevin for loudly and effectively "scaring" that other cat away, and patiently calling to Amos until the silly cat fell out to the scraggly bushes below. He'd have wanted to meet our new little, silly kitty. I wanted to call today and tell him that I picked some blueberries, some good ones. I would have tried to tell him that if he visited us soon, he might just get to eat some for himself. And then, I'd call him right now, to tell him that I missed him and couldn't wait to come to NY in July to see him.
But I can't call him, I can't see him, and talking to him? Well, sometimes just in my dreams. That is torture though, because when I wake up there is this sensation that we were with him and then it hits me that getting that opportunity this side of Heaven is not possible.
Just because he has left us, doesn't mean that I can make the way he was in my heart and thoughts go away. Sometimes I focus on thoughts of him in Heaven and what he might be doing. I think about how happy he would be, how much fun he would be having, and probably how many kitties he takes care of in Heaven. This helps for awhile, until the ache of missing him becomes too much.
