yesterday I turned off the lights and went to sleep

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Yesterday I turned off the lights and went to sleep, without you. I still act like I’m there… I tidy her side, make her coffee, and set the clock to wake up on her schedule. I bought your soap too.

Sometimes I forget that the loss is not mine alone. When your relatives call me, they treat me like they’re talking to you. I’m not you, but I don’t have the heart to tell them. I let the pain vent on me. This has been constant. And not just family, but friends, ex-friends, ex-coworkers.

I remember the last time we spoke when you told me you didn’t love me anymore and left. How could it have left? I will never see you again. I won’t be able to try your love again. That’s why I don’t think it’s fair to see you in me. For you, I was no longer you. Why would it be now? But I keep talking to your parents. See you in them.

My father asked me to write you this letter, to try to ease the pain a little. It’s not working, I confess. The more I remember you, the more I remember you.

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