It's been two years

Just finished another very long day at the newspaper.
I love it, though. There is so much to write about, so many people to get to know and a lot of history to learn. It's good for me to be busy this time of year.
I am working the Fourth of July weekend ...
I can't believe it's JULY already.
The anniversary of Jeff's death is July 5. I have felt my sadness for days. It rises to the top, like vomit.
I try to think of other things, focus on my job, my relationship with Max (a very sweet and loving man), visiting my children and grandchild, etc. But without warning a miasma breezes over me, a jolt of shock pushes my adrenaline trigger, a dose of recall, I practically gag on it ... I'm right back at Jeff's bedside holding his hands, stroking his cheek, kissing his face and hands as he breathed unevenly for hours. The moment he left me. The second he died.
I still cannot grasp that he has GONE away. Sometimes I feel like I was never with him at all. That the years of loving him were just dreams; a parallel existence. I can so easily recall his voice, his happy face, his "Hello, Love!", holding his hand; rubbing his back; his laugh; his dry wit; his scent; how he stood with his one foot pointed out when he shaved or buttoned a shirt or stirred a pot on the stove; how he sounded when he read to me at night and how it would lull me to sleep -- a secure, peaceful sleep.
I am thankful for all of that. I am grateful for the way he changed my life. He made me strong and confident. He loved me so well, I can love again ... only I know I won't love like I did when Jeff was here with me.
I am eager to go home to Pennsylvania. I want to feel him around me. Maybe I can figure out a way to touch him just one more time.