Today is 3 months.  I feel more lost than I did the morning you died.  Our son is coming for dinner tonight to celebrate his birthday.  I had to sign his card, love mom.  No love dad.  The first time in 34 years, you were there when he tried to blow out his first candle and ended up sticking his head in the cake.  I dont have a picture of you with him that year.  You were the one taking the pictures.  Next week is Thanksgiving.  I'm trying to find things to be thankful for and I will be thankful to have our children and grandchilden fill the house with life for the day.  I put the blinds up today.  Fall sunshine filled the rooms that have remained dark for weeks.  I have almost finished sorting your boxes of office stuff.  It makes me smile when it isnt making me mad that it seems the only way you knew how to clean your office mess was to dump it into the bottom of a box, put some files ontop and store it in the basement.  I will be able to supply our 7 grandkids with pens, pencils, erasers and staples until the last one graduates!!  I'm not finding your smell on so much of your stuff now even though it has only been 3 months.  I miss that smell so much.  But I have your pillow and your glasses.  When I need to be close to you all I have to do is hold them and close my eyes.  I can pretend for a moment that you are holding me, and I can cry in your strong arms. Oh and the first box of office stuff did make me cry. All those pens.  You always had a pen or two in your breast pocket.  Every time I snuggled with you, from the very first time those darn pens poked my face.  You would lift my head and take the pens out and put my head back in place.  My head misses that place, where I could feel your heart beat in time with mine.  We were two halves of the same soul.  The pens will be hard to part with.