Picking Fights

I’m picking a fight with my Sexxy Chef tonight.

I don’t exactly know why.

Maybe I do.  I don’t know.

A friend of mine says that when you say “I don’t know” it really means “I don’t want to look at it.”

I miss my Mark.

I miss how he knew me. How he knew how to calm me. How he knew how to centre me.  How he just. KNEW.

My Sexxy Chef doesn’t.  Not yet.  And he’s his own person who’s got his own way of doing things and they’re not mine.  We haven’t found “ours” yet.

We should have by now, shouldn’t we?

A year and a half later, should we not have found a soft way of relating?  Should we not have a groove and dance moves and ways of doing things that are ours?

I miss the easy way Mark and I were together.

My daughter said to me that I need to go back and remember how it was at the beginning with Mark. How was it with him after a year and a half?

I don’t remember.  I remember the end.

But I do remember some epic fights between him and I. Fights that involved the word divorce.  Fights that broke us. Fights that rivaled the fights I have with my Sexxy Chef.

Just not as often.

But they were horrible and awful and devastating.

And tonight I was picking a fight.  That would have been horrible and awful and devastating.

I don’t want that. I don’t want to be fighting 5 days before Christmas.

I am missing my Mark.  And I want, so badly, to build a fantastic life with my Sexxy Chef.

I just don’t know how to not hurt at Christmas. It’s the 1/2 year mark.  No matter what, Christmas is exactly (insert # of years) and a half since he died.

I can’t explain why that hurts so much.  It just does.

I should stop trying to pick a fight tonight. It will make for a better Christmas.

_DSC0030This is the feeling I want this Christmas… and every Christmas after.  Even when I’m missing Mark.

Pictures 073This was Mark’s last Christmas – he was wonderfully goofy and didn’t take much seriously. And was always good for a joke. I miss him.  So much.

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