So..today..I'll just write you a letter..
I miss you. With every waking moment of every passing day. But Monday mornings have been nothing short of impossible to get through. I wake up, I swallow down the pain and put on a face that says I’m fine. When really, I’m not. Sunday was our day and has been for so long that each one that’s passed since you were taken away is increasingly impossible to face. I could put the exact number of them here but what good would that do other than to give me a numerical reminder of how many days included along with those Sundays it’s been since I’ve heard your voice? Or held a letter that smelled faintly like the oils you wore or the candles you burnt in the apartment you were holed up in so long because you were so afraid to venture out?
I should have done more. You’d asked me so many times to not go to them. That what we had was between us and I agreed and I was greedy and I wanted a life that existed for you and me outside the horrible things I see every day. And we had that. Our own secret place where we went to on the end of telephone lines and beautifully scrawled handwriting on letters I still keep in a drawer beside my bed. Because even though the books all went back on the shelves and the letters had gone there too? The books remained. But the box of notes was opened up and they were put where I’d always kept them before..
Before they stopped coming.
Did you know..okay..sorry.. Of course you knew. That one week after you died, the letter you’d sent me came in the mail? I’d never told anyone that. I locked myself away by then and read those last words not once, not twice, but eighty four times before I couldn’t take it anymore and placed it in with the rest.
Please don’t get me wrong. There are times that I laugh now and I mean it. The shadows can only last so long before they become split apart by little beams of light. Right? Can’t keep the curtains closed forever. JJ told me that when she’d come over with the rest of the team to tidy up the apartment I’d let fall to tatters that I would have been so ashamed to let you see.
I joke sometimes –no one gets them for the most part but that will never change. And I smile and it’s not fake. Because I know you’d want me to and I’m sorry that I still get like this sometimes but I can’t help it. My mind never forgets anything. Details. Scents. Sounds. It’s all there and when it gets quiet, like tonight, it comes back and here I am..
We still have each other. In my dreams. Your new safe place and mine. The first night you were there when I closed my eyes and the second soon blurred into a repetition that’s had us sitting in libraries or standing in places I only have read about. Like Paris or Rome and we’re there while I sleep and it’s so real that I barely know the difference for the first few minutes that I wake up. Funny how instead of doing that, I’m sitting at a computer screen typing this because writing down on a piece of paper was for you not me.
I should go but I wanted to tell you that I love you. I love you more than I could ever imagine and I hope to see you as soon as the tiredness kicks in and I drift off. Let’s make this Sunday one where you’re here and we spend it together in another place I’ll never go in person. I’ll see you soon.