I never thought I could live this long without you here with me. Who knew that I would have pulled myself together, started working the farm, building things, managing things and getting the work done?

I never could have imagined life without you. You’ve been my world for thirty years, and here I am, 53 years old, widowed, and learning again how to be a mechanic, farmer, designer, planner, and manager of all the things you used to wrangle.

I look at your picture every night and wonder when you’ll come home. I still shake my head in disbelief that you’re gone. It’s still so very hard to comprehend that reality. Devon and I both walk around pretending you’ll be home soon, so we need to hurry and get things done.

I feel like such a failure for not getting things done faster. It’s amazing how long each task takes, and how much money must be spent to accomplish them. I’m trying to make good decisions, spending the money wisely, and planning our day so that I can also cook meals, clean house, and somehow do my “day” job. It’s not working very well. It’s hard to manage it all. It’s hard to give the attention to the dogs that they want. It’s hard to keep the house clean when my first rush is to get outside.

Life just isn’t the same without you to share it with. It has no joy. No purpose really. I’m just waiting to go home to you, but working to make sure I leave a good home here for Devon and whatever family he may put together some day.

I’m still doing irrational things. I can’t turn your phone off of the service. I’m afraid if I do, you’ll somehow need it. I can’t clean off your desk and move over to it because it feels so disrespectful. I won’t sit in your chair because it’s yours. I refuse to drink out of your coffee cup, because it was your favorite. My mind clearly just hasn’t accepted that you’re truly not going to come home.

I’m okay with that for now. I know eventually, I’ll tuck your things away and slowly move into the space you once resided. I’m afraid of that day. I don’t want to move you out of here. I don’t want to live in a world that you won’t be in. But I must. It’s a dark, dreary place.

You cannot imagine how much I miss you. I miss your morning greeting, how you always checked up on me, how you did my heavy lifting, both physically and just keeping me straight.

There’s so many things that happen in a day that I want to tell you. The dumb stuff no one else cares about, but we enjoyed chatting about. The blackberry bushes actually have some berries on them. The blueberries are almost ready to pick. The chickens look almost grown, and can you imagine that we got two roosters out of that batch. The bees are doing good, but I think the nuc isn’t as healthy as the full hive. The goats are looking peaked, and I need to let them out of that pen. I finally started organizing that shipping container, and boy is it a mess. The hummingbirds are here, and I’m going to need to buy some more feeders. Devon got stung by a wasp. The fittings for the grapple are leaking hydraulic fluid. I can ride up to the roof in the bucket of the tractor without fear.

No one cares about these things, but I post them on Facebook. The people are nice and they comment, but these are the dumb things we used to talk about and there’s no one here to just chat with in the mornings as we drink coffee and solve the world’s problems.

Life just sucks without you, babe. I miss you. I wish you’d come home.

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