It has been 43 days since my fiance died of a heart attack. I still think I can pick up the phone and call him...then it hits me like a wave and clenches my heart, when the reality sinks in...I get through work days better, but the weekends are horrible. Last night I watched the Yankee game with my brother. I could not watch them before at all -- that was something that Bobby and I did together. I can't listen to music...he was a musician and an avid music lover -- one of our common interests. We could finish the lyric to an obscure song that no one else would know except for he and I. I don't listen in my car, at home, at all. I love music, but it's just too painful. I have messages on my cell phone that I can't erase, and every once in awhile I will listen to them and weep. The last one said, I just wanted to tell you I love you again, and can't wait to see you...Am I torturing myself by doing this? I read his emails to me....yes, the age of emails, everything electronic. I told him that I was going to print all of our letters and tie them with a ribbon so we could read them to each other when we are old and gray....I printed them and tied them with a ribbon, and buried them with him...along with one of his favorite musician's CDs. He told me once that when we drove two hours to see this artist, that he wanted to see him before he died.....God help me, I miss him so much I really can't stand the pain....I can't get rid of any of his stuff....I still have a shirt that he wore the day before he died...I can't wash it -- I take it out of the drawer and smell it to smell him.....I haven't changed the sheets that we slept in together the night he died....I am not dealing with this very well, am I? If I hear one more person say, time heals all, and he wouldn't have wanted you to be suffering -- I will scream. I need him HERE. I want him HERE. I need to smell him and touch him and hear his voice.
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