He was a good man

I'm listening to his music from the celebration as I do most Sundays, allowing moisture to seep out when it will,  cleaning up from a cooking spree last night.   Things are good.  With a lot of "help from my friends" I'm clearing, cleaning, finishing, sorting.   getting ready for Winter.

I'm finding a balance of alone and communing, busy and open to ?.  I'm learning, paying attention to my body, my hips/knee, trying to figure out what the heck helps, hurts, can be bourn with out harm.   I'm falling into routines of food, watching Netflicks (always open for suggestions!) reading, dreaming, "getting things done".
 
And I miss him.  So much sometimes that it knocks my socks off.   Perhaps the time and distance allow how hard these last few years were and how much I was losing him to the fog, to fade into the past .  I'm left with the overwhelming awareness that he was a good man, something I appreciated less and less as we silted down into just surviving day to day.

I can't go back in time and tap myself on the shoulder and say "pay attention, this man, this relationship,  this time is GOOD, don't go back to sleep".    I am trying to appreciate what I have now, the farm, the friends and neighbors, family, $ and health enough to do and be wonderful things.  But he is no longer here
and I miss him so much.  I'm trying to appreciate the pain of missing him  too.