People, even those who were not the slightest bit “religious” or even today’s catch phrase, “spiritual” before, always tell you things about the spirit lasting and him not being “his body,” after someone else dies- not “their” someone.
I get that. I saw the body and thought it resembled an empty shell as well.
But that damn physicality- I can’t seem to get past it.
I think it’s because, unlike other people who knew you, I was intimate with your physicality- as well as your intellect and soul.
So, how can you be dead and buried, I often think.
When I can see you standing at the kitchen sink in your white sweat socks.
Swaying side to side.
You have to pee.
When I can see the few black hairs on your big toe and the way the toenail comes to a small point.
When I can see the tiny black pores on the bridge of your nose and that beautiful archipelago of freckle on your left cheekbone?
your shoulder bone as I lay my head on it.
Your scalp as I run my fingers through your hair.
Your earlobe as I hold it between my thumb and forefinger…the one with the freckle that made it look like you had it pierced.
Your uneven sideburns as I brush them with my finger against the grain.
The tiny black and brown hairs that came out of your chin and scratched me as we kissed.
Do not tell a person who has lost a spouse that we are not physical. We are
I hope there’s more to us
than this flesh and blood.