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: