|Rob turning to talk with Devon.|
Today, I cleaned out Rob's car. Each time I pull into the garage I see his car and for a millisecond think, "Rob's home"--just like I have done for the last 14 years that we have lived here. On Wednesday, I will be delivering his car to a buyer. Another piece of my husband's earthly life will be gone.
Each time something belonging to Rob is given away, thrown out, or in the case of his car, sold--I am so overwhelmed with sorrow that I must sit down as the crying is gut wrenching. It still seems at moments like this that it is utterly impossible that I won't ever see, or touch, or love, or kiss, or simply lie alongside my husband again. He is gone. How can a man who was so vital die so quickly? So early?
Sometimes there is only pain.