This is one of the “stages of grief.” It happens not on a conscious level for me, but I start to think that maybe you’ll come back if you see how I’m changing. I’m less whiny- more brave I think.
The counselor told me if you saw me now you wouldn’t see me as the fearful person I’ve been for so long. You’d be so proud of me.
Your shirt barely smells now.
But I listen to your voice notes on your iPhone- it’s like I’ve been oxygen-starved and then when I hear your voice my muscles relax and I can breathe again.