I know in my heart that the reason it hurts so much is because I loved him so much but I take little comfort in that.
Hayes Carll says " darlin', don't you cry tonight, the moon is full and the world is right. I've loved more than my share, I took the pain and called it fair."
But the world isn't right and I don't call it fair.
I try to take comfort in the fact that he was here, the place he loved, and that I was with him. That he was doing what he loved. That he had been having a great week with family. But I take little comfort in that.
I know one day I will find comfort in these things. I know from conversations we've had and from our shared outlook on life that we would both rather go quickly than to linger with the pain of a destroyed body or mind, as have some of those we loved. But we didn't want it yet. We wanted more time. More time together here at the ranch. More time with the kids. More time with the grandkids. Just a little more time.
Having been so often alone here, waiting on the day two months from now when Rickie would retire and join me, I can sometimes pretend I'm still waiting. That it's just not his weekend to come out and he'll be here soon.
Then at other times I can't breath and I just want to lie down and stay there until I can go wherever Rickie went.
But I can't. He left things undone that I need to do, things he wanted done out here that we hadn't finished. And there's the littlest ranch hand that needs me to teach him the things I can and to tell him about his Pampaw. He's going to have to depend on his parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins to help him learn the ways of wildlife, longhorns, canoeing, and ranch chores. He had already suffered the loss of his grandmother Miriam to cancer this year, too young at 57 to leave us. He needs everyone that is left. We all do.
A few days before "the moment of impact" (as my friend Deb, who has suffered an identical loss this year, referred to it) Rickie and I stood on the front porch watching the deer in the field. One of the hunters had made a shot and got his deer. All the other deer had scattered from where they were feeding but in a matter of minutes came back. I remarked on how fast they returned after the death of one of their own, how peaceful it looked. He said, yes, a hole is left but the others quickly circle around to fill it and life goes on.
We've been left with a hole that can't be filled but our family and friends quickly circled around us. Life goes on and we have to find that way to go on and do what we've been left to do.
Seems like to me the stars don't shine as bright..........
Since You Went Away by Kris Delmhorst