December 11, 2017
The printer just made the cycling noise that lets me know you are here.
So I started blabbing to you. I think you may be around at other times, but when I hear this, I jump at the chance that you’re trying to tell me you’re here.
I love you. You know that.
I wonder what you think when you see me alone and crying, wailing.
I think of how that would affect me, watching over you and seeing you in your misery. I would hate it, of course, but what can I do? This is awful. This is miserable.
I try to go on. Some days, I think I can. I have more hope in a future on my own. I feel not quite excitement, but slight anticipation of an upcoming event – meeting Tina for a movie/dinner night, the SAE Christmas party, things like that. I look forward to escaping my solitary tomb for a little while.
But then I long to come back home, to you, to your photos, and videos, and your “stuff.”
I don’t want to go on. I want to stay in our world, try to recreate it, memorialize it, feel it again in some small way by touching your things, watching our TV shows, but usually, staring at your picture and talking to you.
I don’t want to leave you behind, but I know I must.
