The ring on my finger. The empty space on my other hand. The earrings in my ears. The necklace and bracelets from the girls. Photos on the wall. Art from the girls on the wall. Music on the radio. Pins on Pinterest. The blanket I’m crocheting is big to go on “our” bed with squares from our kids’ blankets. Even the silence of no texts from him.
It’s been suggested by a few of you and a few others that I should put it all away in a memory box until the pain isn’t so deep. I can’t do that. That would hurt worse. That would mean they were completely gone and I can’t handle that. It also reminds me what else I am fighting for.
I know you’re getting bombarded with these posts today, but I don’t know who else to go to. I feel guilty going to Alex because I don’t want him to think I’m trying to make him feel bad for his decision. I know he did what he felt he had to in order to protect what’s important to him. I just hope that one day I am that important to someone.