Is it strange that six months and thirteen days after my beloved Jeffrey died, I still forget that he is gone? It's brief. Just a moment. But I will suddenly think, "I have to remember to tell him..." I still pick up the phone to call him. I still think I hear him snoring. I still think I feel his love for me. It's hard to remember that he's gone. It's impossible to forget him.
My grandfather is ill. He needs help with some things. I keep thinking that Jeff will come lend a hand. He won't anymore. He can't.
I am so used to being loved by Jeff. I am so accustomed to knowing that he was out there somewhere thinking of me and the kids. I still can't wrap my head around his absence. I don't think I ever will. But I so wish I could feel the reassurance of his love and the safety of his presense.
The Silencing of a Poet
1 day ago