I know I already typed a blog less than 24 hours ago, but, my brain was bouncy and I had a few things I wanted to add, because it is important for me to share it with you all. It’s a bit informational, and may be painful to read, but, this is my mind. This is what I think about, that, sometimes breaks me, and sometimes doesn’t. Mostly, I try to avoid THESE specific thoughts. 
Every Wednesday, and on the 25th of each month. Never fails. I think about the steps Mitch took (in my mind’s eye). And the thoughts I think he would have had.

Bear in mind, this is only my imagination working, so, I cannot say, without a doubt that this is true in any way outside of times and death, and his spoken words to Megan. 

He woke up, and got ready for work. Told Megan, “Hope you have a good day. See ya later. I love you!” He went to work around 7am, even though he wasn’t feeling well. I’m not sure he said he didn’t feel well to anyone, and it really doesn’t matter if he did. People who saw him that morning knew he wasn’t  feeling good. They thought he left. 

In fact, he didn’t leave. He went into the bathroom. In my mind, he splashed his face with cool water, because that’s what his mom used to do, for him when he didn’t feel good. He would do it a lot, during any sickness he would catch. So, I could picture him do it, at that point. I picture him taking his hat off, hanging it up, and sitting down. I picture him falling asleep, and the thoughts racing through his mind. 

Thoughts along the lines of “Why am I so tired? I’ve never been this tired before. I hope no one catches me sleeping in the bathroom. I couldn’t stand to have someone see me this sick!”

Then darkness. 

All of that between 7am and 8am on Wednesday mornings. Every Wednesday. In real time. 

I know he passed before 8:30am, because I sent him texts that he never even opened. 

It hurts me, every time I think about how he sat there, alone, until 11:45am, when a coworker found him. 

There are times I feel guilty for not realising it sooner, but I can’t do that to myself. I always gave him shit for not even reading my texts, because he would do it so often, and not respond. It was NORMAL! Really! He was AT WORK. I figured he was busy with the tires, making sure my brother, his boss, didn’t lose his contract with FedEx over tires not being aired properly. (Something similar happened to another contractor recently, and it weighed heavily on Mitch’s mind.) And he planned to wipe out one of the trucks, because one of he guys was in contact with someone who had C-Diff (really bad GI thing), an thought he might have caught it. 

So, every Wednesday, between 7 and 11:45am, this is what’s on my mind. 

If I seem aloof, it’s because I am. There’s no denying it. 

I’m still working on it. It’s like a waking nightmare. I can talk and function during it, and a thought will come, and then another. 

I also HAVE to believe there is an afterlife. I have to. I cannot imagine an existence that doesn’t have Mitch. 

With the death of my husband, I also becgan questioning Christianity, more, because as great of a person, all around, that Mitch was, Christianity says he wouldn’t be allowed into heaven. He wasn’t positive that God and Jesus were real, and because of that, the religion claims he was unworthy of God’s graces. Unworthy of the heavens. That pisses me off!

How do I take that? How do I get through the day, with that? 

He deserves the heavens. He was an amazing person, and didn’t hurt people. He set an example, in life, that many should follow, and many look up to. So, how can I side with Christianity on this? 

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