projects and pain

In case you didn't know, there is an abundance of rhubarb up here.  I love it!  A lady at work brought me a huge bag of it so last night I sliced it all up in the food processor and made jam and froze the rest. I bought these fun squatty pint jars that I think look really pretty with the jam in it. This week I am closing at work which means I don't go in until 9. Usually I sleep until the last possible second and then get ready for work. But today I was up early and got some quilting done! this guy was right by my side "helping" I am almost done with this quilt top that I started awhile ago. I have one square left and then I can sew the top together. I know I'm a broken record, but this week has been tough and it's only Tuesday. Dang. This weekend and most of last week I've really struggled with believing this is all real. Like I'll find myself thinking things are totally normal and then *wham* my mind snaps back with "he's gone" and then I find myself wondering if he really is? I know he is I just can't accept it. I don't want it to be true. I know this is a little morbid to discuss but I'm also having a hard time with the cremation. Like he is completely gone. There is a bit that is buried but other than that he is completely gone. How can that be? Right now I'm not okay with cremation. But, burying his body to decompose is not cool either. ugh. It all sucks. These are things I never, ever thought of before. Why would I? I think back over everything that has happened in these almost 4 months and I feel like I'm living a nightmare. And one that I'm trying to find something that isn't there, that eludes me. I miss him so much it's tangible. Okay confession time - don't judge. I smoked a clove cigarette on Saturday night. I was sitting there feeling like is this real? Is he gone? and I had to do something else, I didn't want to drive anywhere and I can't really explain it. Scott smoked and that's part of what contributed to his death so I should know better. And I have had this pack for 4 years and it's only missing 3 so it's not like I'm a smoker. But anyway. It like conjured him a little. I could picture him smoking, the way he would light up and blow out smoke. The way he held it. When the smoke would go my way he'd wave it towards himself and say "I'm sorry." and I could hear the way he'd say it. Not audibly, I'm not losing my mind. How is it that a habit I hated so much and he hated to do could somehow bring comfort? Ultimately just more pain though because it made me miss him more.