Sixteen

It is June. Remarkably, it is even cool today. Breezy. Overcast. Lovely. Just like it was on February 10. It has been 16 weeks exactly ~ almost to the moment. I felt it even before my phone alarm alerted me. Roger. Eternity.

It is 16 weeks and still surreal.

I'm sitting outside enjoying the breeze as I edit in my OCD kind of way on a photo album. I was recalling how we never got the chance to go through the photos from France. I showed Roger the Ranger monument at Pont du Hoc. He wanted to see the rest when I finished my book. That way he could study and enjoy them. I guess he never had the appreciation for 15,000 photos! He had better things to do than edit.

Taxes first, then finish the book. That sounded good until February 10 got in the way. Life changed. Dramatically.

Today I have been still and quiet. Busy in a quiet way but still thinking so much about that day. I heard sirens. I rarely hear sirens. I saw a cardinal.
I slept remarkably well last night considering that I just watched the night sky forever as tears softly ran down my face and soaked my pillow.  I thought about the rolling waves. I guess this was one of those rolling waves nights and days.

The quiet has been refreshing after a couple of super busy weeks. Thankfully it was a calming kind of quiet today, not an anxious one.  As I have taken little tiny breaks from my editing, I've thought about how Roger would be doing this or that. For some absurd reason Fox came on this morning so I know that we traded in 5 terrorists for 1 possibly not so honorable American soldier.  This would have had him fired up all day. I'm sure he would have been on the phone with Dan.

I don't even care. Well, I care, but I am not letting it bother me. Come Quickly, Lord Jesus, is all I can say.

I find myself so often still talking bout him in the present. Then I catch myself. Then the tears slip out. When does the adjustment kick in and stay there?  In four months I have figured out how to pay the bills, and put dishes in the dishwasher, and change the toilet paper, and even take a stab at cleaning a toilet, though I still don't like any of those jobs. I miss doing his laundry and 4 loads of towels a week for two people. I still miss the smell of sausage and coffee in the mornings even though I neither eat nor drink them. The refrigerator never has anything interesting in it anymore. I still don't like to go to the grocery. That should mean skinniness for me, but that has not seemed to happen yet.

I ran across the poem and thought about how we really called ourselves two pretty independent people, but really and truly, were were not all that independent at all. We were not him and her, we were them. We balanced each other in a quirky kind of way and I miss that a whole lot.

You hear "Sixteen" and the first thought is..."Sweet"

Today's sixteen does not feel so sweet, but in trying to be true to my desire to get though this on a positive note...I will say that the memories are sweet.  That is wonderful to say, because I know that not everyone can say that.

Roger's Lesson:  He would laugh and say that tears are ok because one day there will be no more tears...as in his current case. And I can still hear him..."Sweetie, will you go ahead and start dinner?"

"Sweetie's" Sixteen has got to turn around before this day is over!

I'll try to think of everything Sweet.
...in the SWEET Bye and Bye....we will meet on that beautiful shore....
...tis so SWEET to trust in Jesus.....
...SWEET hour of prayer....

...How SWEET are your words to me, like the sweet taste of honey.....(Thank you, Lord)

Sweet are the memories
Sixteen weeks - closer to seeing you again.