I haven’t seen you since June 29th, 2010.

This is the longest time we’ve been apart for over ten years.
It’s not surprising that a grieving person feels removed from time. Time stops with the phone call telling you the news you’ve dreaded in your subconscious for years and years.
And then there is this tug of war with time.
I don’t want to go forward- each moment is further from you alive.
I don’t want to stay here- it is far too painful and in fact I’d like to skip it altogether but that’s not an option.
I want to go forward- very far forward to the time when I can find out all of the answers for myself and have the reunion I’ll be waiting for every day from now until then.
I am terrified of moving forward- ten, twenty years from now- when I will be 44 or 54 and he will still be 33. Surely I will not hear your voice as clearly or conjure up your body and mannerisms as swiftly.
Eventually, time will pull me over the line. Until then, my palms are getting burnt and splintered from this thick, old rope.

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