One day

I know it's been 26 actual days since you left us, but it feels like one day since I kissed you goodbye on my way to work. I just figured out why it seems like one excruciating day, it's because every morning is like groundhog's day-the movie. I wake up and you're not here. Everyday is like a do-over. If I just get it right I'll wake up and you'll be here. Healthy and happy like you were for 21 years. Thing is I don't know how to get this day right. We walked through the Redwoods down to the ocean. Last time we did that I thought how beautiful and marvelous it all was. This time it just was there. I look at sunsets each night. I used to see colorful, gorgeous skies. Now I see the colors but they lack magnificence. They lack grandeur. They just exist. Everything just exists ever the same. It's all lacking because you aren't here to kiss goodbye to each morning.