Last year, Tom had to do a lot of traveling for work. I live very close to both the airport and his office so he would stay at my house most nights when his sons weren't with him. One week he had a trip to California with a very early morning flight. It wasn't actually until the next day that I saw the note he'd left me on the fridge. So sweet. He loved me so much. The feeling was mutual.
I have this framed and hanging in my room now. It makes me smile and remember all the good times we shared. So much laughter. He understood me like no one ever has. Sometimes I still can't believe I'll never see him again.
We never even got to have a big fight. Not that I wanted to fight but he made me laugh when he told me he was going to make me yell. I don't come from a family of yellers. We're descendent from English/German quiet people. Tom came from a big loud Italian family. I mean that with love. I've met them and they are great. I was really looking forward to being part of their family.
So I'm trying to get on with my life but I can't even remember what I did with my free time before meeting Tom. I know I used to read but I can't really concentrate enough to do that now. Hence the stacks of magazines I haven't read since the middle of September.
I don't cry as much anymore, although writing this has made cry. When I do cry it's usually on the way home from work, when a song that makes me think of Tom (which is just about every song) comes on the radio, or when I'm going to bed. But I am perpetually sad. I was the happiest I've ever been and now I'm the saddest. And it sucks.