“ . . . and he wants me to . . .”
What he’s saying isn't important. He’s telling me about the job he has coming into the shop. Just like he has a million times before. And it doesn’t matter that this bed we’re lying in isn't ours. Or, that I’ve never seen this loft before. I’m content to be here cuddled up with him listening to him talk.
“Well, I better get moving, he’s going to be here soon,” he says as he stands up and heads for the stairs. I follow him and grab his hand.
“Not yet,” I say as I drag him to the couch. “Just five more minutes.”
I sit down, tugging on his hand. He smirks and lightly laughs, “Why?”
“I don't know,” I sob and tears spill down over my cheeks. He sits down next me and I wake up.
The tears are real, but everything else was a dream. It was a perfect, everyday moment that I wish I could have back. I want a million more of them. And that is impossible.
This is the only dream of him I’ve had that has felt real and true since he passed. And every time I try to talk about it, I get choked up and the tears well. I cried as I poured it out on paper. I’m crying now as I write it here for you. I’m nearly choking on the damn tears.
I don’t know why I am sharing this with you. It’s deeply personal and it fills me with so much longing! Longing that will never be slaked. But I feel compelled to get this out.
My heart doesn’t want to believe it.
It's in these moments that I wish for anger, indifference, anything else! Just so it stops hurting. Just so it doesn't feel like a part of me is missing.
It's been nearly three months. Only a short time and yet I feel like I have already lived lifetimes since then.
Cherish those seemingly insignificant moments. They matter more than you might think.
I miss hearing what he had going on. I miss hugging him in the kitchen. I miss seeing him out doing his thing in the yard. I miss hearing him breathe beside me at night. I miss him teasing me. I miss smelling his neck. I miss his laugh.
I miss HIM. Greatly.
This is the last photo I ever made of him. He was helping me with my 52-week Exposure Project. This assignment was to use candlelight to tell a story.
