Grieving the loss of the familiar

Why does he occupy so much of my headspace?  He doesn't deserve any.

Logically, I can look around and see everything that has improved.

• the peaceful piano music playing in the background instead of the noise of the tv
• the puzzle sprawled out on the kitchen table without guilt
• the smaller sizes of clothes in my closet from the weight I lost and keep off effortlessly
• the breeze of fresh air from the night flowing in
• the energy still lingering from the weekend
• the travel apps filled with vacation plans that better align with me
• the two vases of flowers that fill the room with a beautiful fragrance
• the solid financial plans I'm working towards
• the growing list of contacts in my phone of my community
• the smile from a friend who commented today "you are a foodie!" as we discussed her weekend at a beach lodge where I had stayed last year
• the pain free body that lays diagonally across the bed
• the joy I find everywhere, in just about every moment

I smile in making that list.  And I know it just scratches the surface.  I feel more peaceful and settled after creating it.

But it still leaves me at a loss for why I feel the way I do.  This vacation with her that he is on now is bothering me more than I understand.  What is it exactly I'm feeling?  I'm sad at the loss of the familiar, a familiar life that disappeared in an instant without warning.  The anticipation of cruise day, the thought of him exploring a ship we explored together, the first dinner of the cruise, etc. reminds me of that familiar life I used to live.  Cruising was our thing.  We took twenty cruises together and had six more booked before it all abruptly ended.

There is a comfort in the familiar.  The journey of the last year and a half has been anything but comfortable.  Maybe I'm craving a little comfort, something that feels a bit more familiar.  Maybe that is why this is hitting me so hard.

Let me go back and re-read my list at the top of this post before I hit publish as a reminder of the rewards of a little discomfort.  It's in the discomfort and the unfamiliar that I grow, heal, build, and eventually let go.