Dear Jesus,
Scott's been dead 15 weeks. When I was leaving church today, I started wondering what was going through his mind as he left church for the last time on July 28. Was he scared? Was he calm? Was he thinking of me? What I do know is that 30 minutes later he was dead.
Grief is a weird thing. Yesterday, I just sat on the couch and watched movies most of the day. Then, from out of nowhere, I just burst into tears. I wasn't even thinking about him at the time. I guess my body needed the release. And today, when I got home, I was sitting in the floor with Leonard and a wave of sadness just overwhelmed me. I never know when it's coming, I just know that it is. I guess I'm doing better: the house is cleaner, the dishes are washed, the laundry is done. But I don't FEEL any differently.
I keep looking into the dressing room when I'm seated on the couch. There were so many days I would watch him getting dressed - picking out a shirt, finding a pair of pants and packing his backpack for his tours. I don't think he even knew I watched his routine. Now, I just stare in that room and imagine he is there. I miss him more than words can explain.
My prayer today is that bedtime comes quickly, so I can put another day behind me.
Brother Jesus, hear my prayer.
