Dear Sara,
Today was a good, but hard, day. I went grocery shopping. It took me a while to actually get out of the car after I got to the store. It just didn't feel right. I know we very rarely shopped together, but shopping for one just seems wrong.
Your family came over and we spent a lot of time looking through all of your sewing materials. So many projects unfinished. So many more just ideas in your head. The world is a less lovely place without you and your projects.
We finished the night watching a slideshow of all your pictures from my iPhoto library. I cried. Your smile is so beautiful. Your eyes sparkle. I just want to reach out and touch your cheek and kiss those beautiful lips again.
They say there are fives stages of grief. I'm pretty sure I'm still in denial. I can't stop using words like "we" and "us" when I'm speaking in the present tense. There's a voice in the back of my head trying to convince me that you'll be home any minute.
By the way, I don't know if I've mentioned it before or not, but our daughter is beautiful. Of course, I'm sure you know that. You've been able to spend more time with her than I was allowed. I'm more than a little jealous and heart broken over that.
It's been two weeks since you left. I've been so busy it feels like it's been longer. You know how quiet and dull our life was? It's been a rush of appointments, meals, friends and family since then. I haven't had a day go by that I didn't go somewhere, meet up with someone, or have dinner with someone.
My injuries from the accident are healing OK...my heart's not doing as well. It really hurts most of the time. I want to think about the positive side of you being in Heaven, but most of the time I just feel sad that you're gone.
I found a new home for Katu. I feel bad about giving her away, but she and Stevie still hate each other; and, without you here to keep the peace, things were starting to get a little hairy. Stevie's not sure what to think of the gate being down. He's been making tentative forays into the other half of the house, but goes scurrying back to the basement door when he sees me over there. I think the gate being down does help him understand that you're not just on the other side of it ignoring his cries. He's been very quiet since I let him out of the basement this morning. I bought him some wheat grass to nibble on, I figured you might like that.
None of this makes sense to me. I don't understand why God let you get hurt so bad. I still can't find it in my heart to be angry at Him, but that doesn't help me feel any better.
I love you, and I miss you. I'd do anything to hold you in my arms again and it hurts knowing that I won't ever be able to do that on this Earth. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy. Tell her that I love her, too, and wish she was still here.
Love,
Chad
P.S. I hope you don't mind the way I jump from topic to topic. My brain just feels really random right now, like there's not a whole lot of order to anything.
