Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving. My favorite holiday- or the 4th of July.

This Thanksgiving was really hard. Clayton and I had never actually spent the day together the past two Thanksgivings we were together. The first year I worked 1pm-10pm, and last year, he dipped out on dinner with my family.

But I was really, really excited. It was the first Thanksgiving with our daughter, and I was looking forward to actually being a family with him. We hadn’t yet discussed plans for the holiday, but I had assumed we’d spend part of the day with my parents and another portion with his family.

And then everything changed.

He is gone. Forever. And I’m having a really hard time grasping that.

We were by no means perfect. We fought all the time. I wanted to leave him so many times. I wanted to be done with him. I wanted to move on. But deep down? I truly wanted it to work. I did.

And I’m left here without him. Thinking, wondering, if I’d just been more something things would have been different, and he wouldn’t have died.

I spent Thanksgiving with my parents and siblings. I stayed distracted. Until night rolled around and it was time to put my baby to bed. And as I laid in bed nursing her to sleep, I cried.

Today was so hard. He literally never left my thoughts. I knew I wouldn’t be calling him and telling him about my day. I knew I didn’t have the option to drive to his apartment and lay in his arms.

Why didn’t we have more time with him?

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