This Is Where I’m At

by | Jan 18, 2011 | 1 comment

The toothpaste and dental floss are still the same ones you used, but I can feel the dental floss getting lighter and looser.  Literally, each night, when I pull some off, I fear that I will reach the end.  The end of flossing next to you.  Such a small thing.

When I hear the bus brakes now outside our apartment complex, I barely notice.  I don’t expect you anymore, but every once in a while, I still want to pretend- and I think about getting up and moving the curtains and looking for you- but I don’t move.

I have been able to watch a few short sitcoms on Hulu.  For the first time, I could stand the distraction from the grief and even enjoyed the shows.  I could hear you laughing right next to me at the parts you would’ve laughed at.

I have slowed down because it’s more painful to write, but I am not done writing or talking- i have to keep telling this story until I believe it.  The writing feels sloppier because I get it out as quickly as I possibly can.

The phrase that I most often want to say to people, but don’t think I ever have- is not a command or affirmation but a question- really a simple one, but pregnant with more questions:  was he real, I know he was here, I have his child, do you miss him like I do?  wasn’t he a spectacular creation?

It is just this:

“Remember Dan?”


January 18, 2011

1 Comment

  1. dk

    i said the same thing in a dream last night. "remember dan…"


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