Little Things


I hate grocery shopping.  It was something he enjoyed, never knew why, but he’d run to the store for anything.  If I wanted chocolate at ten at night, he’d get up and run to get me some.  Granted I usually said no, but he’d still go.  Now I walk those blasted aisles and keep turning to ask if he wants x or y.  And he’s not there.

Garage saling was something we did on weekends. it was fun, digging through other people’s junk, looking for treasures and we did find some occasionally.  but looking was the fun part. Now I see the signs and my stomach turns at the very idea of going and not being able to ask if he want this or that.

Laundry – he always did it, I haven’t done more than the occasional load in years.  Now, it sits there mocking me, making me realize it is one more thing that now falls on me.

Taking out the trash.  He had his routine, every Monday he’d get all the trash in the morning, and carry it out to the can.  Now I have to remember to do it Sunday night, or I’ll be late trying to do it in the morning.

Going to sleep at night, I miss him kissing me goodnight, teasing me, loving me before I had to sleep to wake up in the morning.

None of these are world ending, but all of them are the little things that strike with the power of a whip out of nowhere, and the pain is so bittersweet.

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