Every morning

My days start so hard. I wake and I'm either facing the cupboard which used to hold his clothes, or I am looking at the pillow where he used to lay his head.
I never fail to get this 'rushing' feeling, like something awful is rushing towards me and I really must do something immediately to stop it. It's the realisation that he's gone, and won't ever lay beside me again. It takes a full minute for the panic to take hold, but those 60 seconds or so, they terrify me. It's just an awful way for me to start my day. And I am always left in tears. I lay there, for another twenty minutes, sometimes more, just so upset and wondering at the pain I feel in my heart because of the life I have lost.
I grieve for him. I think someone who has lost the person they loved more than anyone, would be those who would understand me the most. I often think that if he had died, then people might begin to understand the ferocity of the pain I am in. People would be more tolerant, and give me more time to adjust. When in fact, he's furthest from dead. He's healthy and happy, with someone else. I can't even think of him giving his love to another. No....can't allow myself to go there.

So, each morning, once I have mustered even just a little energy when I feel so empty inside, I check to see where 'the little fella' is.......that's our little Yorkshire terrier. His name is Harvey. If he's not too close, I can push the covers back, and get my legs out of the bed. He will stir and look at me. Each time he looks at me, that in itself makes me cry a little more. He was Andys dog. He made sure he was fed, watered, and played with him tugging his little toy every night. I do that little ritual now, as I know Harvey enjoys it, but it even upsets me to do that....another reminder of what my night times were like. Watching Andy's gorgeous skin.....his arm, shoulder and back while he played 'tug' with Harvey. Listening to Harvey play growling. It was always something that made me smile....his actions showing how he loved our little fella.

I turn to look at Harvey, watch him stretch as he wakes up, and then he stands waiting for me to lift him down to the floor. Harvey is so small, if he jumped he would probably hurt his legs. He's peered over the edge of the bed a few times, or rather I have woken to see him do it as he whimpers to wake me as he needs out. He yawns, and I wait until he has finished.....unplugging my phones and iPad, I fold the bed covers back half way, and then after piling my gadgets up and taking them in one hand, I lift Harvey down. Sometimes I carry him all the way down the stairs....depends on how sleepy I feel. But I find myself having that one last glance over to Andy's side of the bed before I close the door.

The mornings where I struggle.......when I'm still crying twenty minutes after I have woken (these are never mornings where the alarm wakes me now, when once upon a time I depended on it to get me up in time)......I slip my hand under my pillow to touch the t-shirt I still keep there. One he had worn before I left for Florida.....it was in the washing basket, and I took it out. I remember that it was strong with the smell of his aftershave and deodorant. It's not now, but if I close my eyes, I can remember the smell. I touch it gently. To comfort me.
I simply remember the times I would lay against his chest when he had this green 'Animal' t-shirt on. I bought it for him with a brown corded jacket. I loved both of them on him. But then, there was not a single item of clothing I didn't like him in. Everything looked good on him as he had an amazing body.

Need to stop writing now. Can't see any more