117 days' on since my beautiful man passed away.
And today was the 1st day I took this broken body to the gym. Its a little stronger now. A little bit of the weight has come back.
I guess food does not fuel grief. I dropped from 46kg to 42kg in a matter of weeks...and now food is fuelling again.
I was mentally prepared for today's 1st session back, prepared myself for how I would feel, the memories of going to the gym when Rich was here. The 1st of everything is a killer. I was doing well. Had my music up high, did a bit of running... afterwards I grabbed a Starbucks to bring home...
I had not prepared myself for this bit.
As I returned back home, the grief hit.
Rich would go to another gym (a meathead sweaty dirty man gym around the corner) we would meet back at home... I would get the coffees, a medium latte for me and a skinny flat white for Rich. He would insist on putting brown sugar in mine.. we would then have a smoke together and an hour natter...I cried as I put white sugar in my coffee. Smoked alone... sat in the front room now and Rich's absence is as strong as ever.
It's the little things isn't it?
But unfortunately/crazily/as shit as it is, it is not until your world has been turned on it's head that you realise this....it is the collective beauty in everyday life that matters.
Not the house, the dream job, the income, working on yourself to become the better person so all your dreams come true....yes this shit is important....but it is not the fabric of your life...at the end of things, none of this really matters'.
Its the little things you remember....the little things that you do together...believe me, they are the things that hit the hardest.