Before you lecture me about driving and talking hands-free, it is still legal to drive and hold a phone in my state.  And that’s not the point of this post.

The other day I was driving between appointments and, out of habit, reached for the phone to call Dan.  It’s what we do…call each other throughout the day as we drive around town. Correction, it’s what we did. It took almost a minute for me to remember that he wouldn’t answer.  Talk about a gut punch.  In that moment I realized that I’d never hear, “Hey! Whaddya know?” on the other end of the line. Ever.  Ever ever.  I cried all the way to my next appointment and had to hang out in the parking lot to compose myself before going in.

It’s been 123 days since he died, so this shouldn’t be a shock. But it’s one of those random things in the middle of a random day that rips the rug right out from under me.  That random moment that takes any sense of normalcy and burns it to the ground.  The strange thing is I haven’t thought about calling him since the very beginning when I’d call his phone repeatedly just to hear his voice.  

I’m told this is normal.  I’m told this by books, blogs, my grief counselor, and other W’s. Well, this new normal sucks.

My favorite photo of Dan holding our baby nephew. One of his biggest regrets was dying before becoming a grandpa. This photo is as close as we’ll get.