I got a new phone that arrived with all the "new phone" issues of losing log-ins, saved passwords, sometimes apps, and in this case, a whole lot of randomly missing contacts. I lost old contacts, new contacts, all kinds of contacts.
So! Last night, I decided to go through my text messages that just had phone numbers - no names - to see what contacts I could add back through text messages. Pretty doggone clever, eh?
I was feeling pretty good about myself - glad that I tend to use people's names in text messages - finding numbers - reading texts - identifying the texter - and re-adding them to my contacts. I was finding my lost contacts with great glee (and gratitude) - when I ran into a string of text messages with Greg's phone number.
My breath caught in my chest and the tears came before I could stop them. The words were there - demanding that I read them. I read as much as I was strong enough to read. The tone of the messages I read was warm, light, tender at times, loving without question, easy, comfortable (sober). It was the way you talk with someone that you love dearly - and know better than they know themselves - in both directions. In both directions. I could hear his voice in each message - see his face. For a few minutes, he was alive again.
Oh God, I miss him.
I didn't sleep last night. I cried.
But the new day starts, whether you're ready or not. I try hard to be ready.
Today I regrouped as best as I could, went through my day (quietly), made bracelets, answered customer's emails, did some bookkeeping - just normal "stuff", but I didn't have much voice - not many words.
While making bracelets, I remembered the recording I made with my phone of Greg's voicemail after he died. I grabbed my phone immediately to make sure that the recording transferred to my new phone. It did not.
Panic
I haven't listened to the recording in quite a while, but it has to be there when I need to hear his voice. I was afraid I'd forget how he sounded, but now I know there's no chance of that.
I looked for the recording off and on all day, positive that I saved it somewhere on my hard drive. No luck.
Tonight I found it in my email (I'm an email hoarder) and saved it on my computer. I can't lose it.
The only way to be sure it works is to listen to it. As I close my eyes and listen, the hurricane of pain and sadness that swirled around me all week nearly breaks me in two.
My sweet son - is gone. How will I bear it
So! Last night, I decided to go through my text messages that just had phone numbers - no names - to see what contacts I could add back through text messages. Pretty doggone clever, eh?
I was feeling pretty good about myself - glad that I tend to use people's names in text messages - finding numbers - reading texts - identifying the texter - and re-adding them to my contacts. I was finding my lost contacts with great glee (and gratitude) - when I ran into a string of text messages with Greg's phone number.
My breath caught in my chest and the tears came before I could stop them. The words were there - demanding that I read them. I read as much as I was strong enough to read. The tone of the messages I read was warm, light, tender at times, loving without question, easy, comfortable (sober). It was the way you talk with someone that you love dearly - and know better than they know themselves - in both directions. In both directions. I could hear his voice in each message - see his face. For a few minutes, he was alive again.
Oh God, I miss him.
I didn't sleep last night. I cried.
But the new day starts, whether you're ready or not. I try hard to be ready.
Today I regrouped as best as I could, went through my day (quietly), made bracelets, answered customer's emails, did some bookkeeping - just normal "stuff", but I didn't have much voice - not many words.
While making bracelets, I remembered the recording I made with my phone of Greg's voicemail after he died. I grabbed my phone immediately to make sure that the recording transferred to my new phone. It did not.
Panic
I haven't listened to the recording in quite a while, but it has to be there when I need to hear his voice. I was afraid I'd forget how he sounded, but now I know there's no chance of that.
I looked for the recording off and on all day, positive that I saved it somewhere on my hard drive. No luck.
Tonight I found it in my email (I'm an email hoarder) and saved it on my computer. I can't lose it.
The only way to be sure it works is to listen to it. As I close my eyes and listen, the hurricane of pain and sadness that swirled around me all week nearly breaks me in two.
My sweet son - is gone. How will I bear it
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