I lost the love of my life six months ago today. I can't believe it's been six whole months - half a year since I've seen him, talked to him, touched him. I miss him more than mere words can express.
The thought that my children are not going to grow up with their daddy is still unbearable, as is the thought that Sydney won't remember him at all, and Jacob's memories will get foggy and some will fade. I'm still haunted by the images in my mind of what he must have endured during his last moments. What his body went through, what he was thinking and feeling...
The senselessness of Matt's death is something I will never get over. Never. The thought of it stirs a rage in me that's nearly impossible to suppress. I'm angry for his mother, that she lost her youngest child. I'm angry for his father and brothers who feel like it should have been one of them instead. I'm angry and sad for everyone else who is affected by his loss. I'm pissed at the company for letting this happen. A completely preventable, avoidable accident. I hope in time I can get over the anger and maybe find some forgiveness in my heart, but I don't see that happening anytime soon just yet.
I am grateful that I had him in my life for ten wonderful years. During that time, we both were so appreciative of our awesome relationship and the love we shared. It seemed so good, that it was always in the back of my mind that it couldn't possibly last. I was always afraid something horrible was going to happen to him, because I knew that if something ever ended our relationship, it would not have been from a break up. I did my best to never take him for granted, although I know there were times when I did.
One time, during our last weeks together, I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. I thought to myself, "I have to soak this up."
I'm glad I appreciated the little things, because it's all those little things that I miss the most.