The shock of Lev's death has worn off. The "acute grief", where we are frequently racked with sobs, is starting to ease. What we are left with is something deeper: the intense awareness of his absence. I am missing him more directly, more physically. How it hurts! I so want to see him, to play with him, to talk to him. Knowing that will never happen is beyond sad — it is a yearning that grows each day, yet can never be satisfied. My love for him pours out, but it has nowhere to go. I had become so used to being with him each day that to have him gone feels so wrong; the world is fundamentally out of whack.
We have started to pack up and organize some of the miscellaneous things around the house, in the garage, etc. It is so hard, because Lev's things and memories are everywhere. It reminds us so directly that he is gone. We treasure some of these items as keepsakes, but they are but shadows of the person we loved.
