I'm not sure for how long I've been sitting at this table. Our table. It's wooden, a light, beautiful wood. He picked it. I didn't care much about furniture. But he wanted perfect for our first place together.
I've been sitting a lot lately. I don't do anything. I just miss him. I miss him and I remember. Everything. All of it. All of him. All of us. I can still remember the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. Of his arms around me and of his lips on my skin. Sometimes, if I close my eyes for a moment and let myself fall into the past, I can feel it again. But it never lasts. And I'm quickly brought back to reality. The reality in which he's gone. The reality in which his body went cold, and the light disappeared from his eyes. I recall his funerals. How I hate his family for choosing a transparent casket. It was just cruel. Now the last image I have of him is dead. They tried to make him look asleep, except he never slept this way. His body straight, his hands brought together on his chest. No, that's bullshit. He would sleep on his side, the sheets tangled between his arms and legs, as if he was hugging them.
Sour tears roll down my cheeks and die on my throat. I have cried rivers, these past weeks. I don't really even notice anymore. I take a breath in. His sweater still smells like him. My mom tried to take it from me, to wash it. But I just couldn't take it off. I can't and I don't think I could ever. It still smells like him, even though the sweet scent is slowly fading. A sob escapes me. I let my head fall. My shoulders slump. It's dark in our small dining room. I have no idea of what time it is. I haven't turned my phone on in ages. I haven't opened the blinds either. I feel lost. But I would rather be lost than without him. I tried going outside two days prior. My mom came to pick me up and we took a walk in town. I nearly collapsed on myself. Everything reminded me of him. Simply because we went everywhere. He loved to find secret spots and talk for hours on end. The first time we met, we spent six hours walking.
No matter where my mom took me, I could see him there. I could see us there. He in his long coat, his hands smuggled into his pockets. And me, smiling, clinching onto his arm, happiness in my heart.
Hapiness. What a foreign feeling now. It felt as though it had been wiped out of my heart and mind. How could I be happy without him? How could I live without him? How could I live knowing the world would never get to know him?
I put my face in my hands. I press my palms into my eye socket, trying to ease the banging headaches that has been present for weeks. I miss him so much. Why? Why, why, why, why. Why did he give up this way? He lost hope and I lost him.
© justeblue 2022-07-22