While we were out driving every dirt road in that county I got a call. And the caller wanted to meet me back at the hotel. He wouldn't tell me what it was over the phone.
And I knew. I. Knew. I knew at that moment, at the top of the Royal Gorge. I knew that meant he was never coming home.
That I would never hear him whisper, "I love you" in my ear again.
That I'd never again feel the touch of his hand on the small of my back.
That I'd never catch him watching me getting ready again.
What I couldn't have known, or even imagined at that point, was how much it would still hurt a year later.
How I would replay the scene in the hotel room every night before I fall asleep.
2 comments:
I'm so sorry sweetie! I wish I could do something to make it not hurt so bad.....
Thanks Bets :) You're so sweet. I appreciate you checking in on me and the blog. I know it can't be easy on you, but it means so much to me.
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