224 Days Later

That first morning when I was told the news that Max died in a car wreck, I remember crossing my arms over my chest and "hugging" myself all day long ... and for many days after that.  I felt if I didn't do that, my heart was literally going to fall right out!  That feeling is back again ... 224 days later ... I have noticed it creeping back in mostly at night.  I hug the covers tight balled up against my chest and feel some comfort.  Max was a GROWN MAN, and yet I ache for him as his mama for a young child ... he has no bed in his room, as he delivered it up to KC and picked up the futon, which couldn't be recovered from the crash.  I often wish there was still a bed in his room so I could go lay in there.  My chest feels hollow, but too heavy to be empty.  Almost alive, aching, throbbing, more pain ... sleep, not sleep, day, night, it all continues to blur together most of the time.  I miss him