Everything looks so different

Good morning Honey,

As I write this I am looking around the room and realizing how different everything is now.   I can hear the sound of cars driving by across the wet road and the hum of the refrigerator.  No longer do I hear the sound of you moving about, fixing a cup of tea and a bite to eat.  The place where you sat is now occupied by a bookshelf.  The van we took so many drives in is gone now.   Your wedding ring, watch and perfume are now relics that are carefully set aside like museum pieces.  Your clothes are all saved, for what, I don't know.  

The living room and bedroom have been rearranged.  It is difficult to make this place mine without mourning the loss of your personal taste and touches.  In some ways I am trying to erase the portion of our lives when you were ill.  I want to only have pleasant thoughts and fond memories.  It is a difficult thing we try to do when we attempt to erase moments in time like deleting dates from a calendar.

Until now I have not wanted to look at photographs.  Presently, I find myself being drawn back to them.  In the quiet of the evening I will pull out the hundreds of pictures and relive our life together as best as I can.  I am torn between wanting to see these images and trying to avoid the pain they will bring.  All I can do is try.