One Month Tomorrow, January 5, 2020
A day short of one month. I look back and see my post for a week after, and I can't say much has changed.
Today, however, I went grocery shopping for myself for the very first time. While looking at jars of spaghetti sauce, I realized that one jar would be too much for just me so I didn't buy it. I bought enough ingredients to make about a 1/4 batch of chili because I don't think I'll eat all the leftovers of a regular batch. I also bought several frozen dinners for one because I'm just not ready to attempt cooking for one.
My kitchen is in complete disarray right now as I am moving things around and getting a much-needed new stove this week so my microwave isn't plugged in. For this reason, I had gelato for dinner. Because why not?
Unfortunately, I've had a very rough week. A lot of tears, sadness, and realizations of what not having him around means to my life, and how I have to adjust many things in order to accommodate the void that now is a part of my everyday existence.
I keep hearing from people that they are shocked I am even functioning at any level of normalcy, and I can't agree with them more. Truth is, I have no idea how or why I manage to get out of bed or even remember to brush my teeth once in awhile, but the fact is, there's only one other choice: I either continue to live, or exist without living. There is no way Phil would want me to be an empty shell of a person, and for him, I'm trying to live.
I'm living for us both. I'm doing the things we talked about, finishing the journey of meeting his siblings, getting back into some of my left-behind hobbies, focusing on my family and figuring out how to be the earthly part of our whole with him as my spirit guide.
My 15-day "soul-searching" adventure was the time for me to decide to live or not. I took his picture with me everywhere, talked to him, yelled at him, and I still talk to him. I listened for responses, watched for signs, sang to him in the car, and asked him to help me sleep at night.
When I came home, I faced the empty house and all the reminders of him everywhere I look. To say it is hard is an understatement. It is indescribable, and for all those of you who say you can't understand, I hope to God you have many more years to find out than I did how this feels.
To sum it up, I'm surviving. I'm here. I'm functioning. I'm trying to figure it all out. I doubt I ever will, but at least I'm trying.