7/10/2014

We closed a case today. The boys have been taking point since I went to France, and that's fine with me, because all I can think about is that little black square photo tucked into my wallet.

I keep tearing up in the middle of paperwork. And I have to eat all the time, even breakfast, and Castle you were supposed to be here.

You were supposed to hold my hand while we waited for the stick to change color, and go with me for the blood test, and pull out your calendar when they called with the results so we could put a big circle around the date and schedule all my appointments. You were supposed to cry when we had the first ultrasound.

You're the one who has done this before. You're the one who is supposed to talk me down when the hormones make me panic and make me think I have no business doing this and make me want to hide in bed and never come out. You are supposed to hold my hair when I'm sick and help me take off my boots when I can't reach my feet anymore, and get me through labor, and I can't do any of that alone. I can't.

Rick, what am I going to do if you're actually gone?