travels

Steve leaves again this morning to go to his office. He has about a three hour commute from our home to the airport to another airport to his offfice. Generally he's gone M-F, but I got to see him for an extra day this weekend and he's not leaving till this morning. I hate it when he leaves. I'm okay once he's gone and arrived there safely, but i hate the saying goodbye part. Probably even more because of my job, but I always worry a little, what if this is the last time i see you. What if you don't come home for some horrible reason. I can picture his funeral, of course I'd have it here, at my work. I picture who would come from which different walk of our life together. I feel the loss as if it's already happened. All this occurs in the ten minute drive to the funeral home after saying goodbye. I have to shake myself out of it, remind myself that he's made this trip hundreds of times, and that even if he were home with me tonight, I still wouldn't be guaranteed tomorrow with him. It's not that i think these thoughts everytime he leaves, only once in a while, thankfully. Only today I wondered, what if it's me who doesn't go home? Weird. We have all these plans and all these ideas about how we'd like to spend the next few months, years, decades, but i guess everyday i'm faced with people who had those same plans. Grrr. Today is a rainy GRAY day and i'm ready to go back home and crawl under the covers.