You visited me last night, as I knew you would eventually. It was my first night completely alone and instead of feeling lonely and sad, there was a certain peace over the household. I held your pillow – and your unwashed shirt, the one that says “I’m the reason the beer’s always gone” – and drifted off easily. Your presence is very much felt in this home, as it always will be. Your chair, your dreadfully messy desk, your pictures…your scent which is fading daily.
You smiled your sweet smile and told me that I would be all right and for a second I believed you. You said I was strong, and for a second I believed you. You said you loved me and that I did believe completely. You said I would be happy again someday and I laughed and called you a liar. You smiled your sweet smile again. You told me to go ahead and laugh, swim, play, write, and yes, cry if I must. I asked you what it was like where you were – but you were gone, as quickly as you had appeared.
I woke, as I often do these days, with damp cheeks and a huge empty hole in my heart. And I was alone again. Naturally.