It has been three Tuesdays since I lost you.
I will never forget seeing you, just lying there.
I went to our regular coffee shop, at the regular time.
For the second week in a row I ordered both our drinks.
It has been nine Saturdays since I lost you.
The drugstore called yesterday and said your medicine needed to be picked up.
I picked it up.
It has been seven episodes of that show you like, since I lost you.
Most of the things on the DVR are yours.
I’m just not ready to delete them. It’s the little things.
I don’t think I can just yet.
It is the first Thanksgiving since I lost you.
Dinner at my parents was nice, but no one mentioned you.
I canceled Christmas with your parents.
They said they understood.
It has been twenty-two Sunday walks in the park since I lost you.
More than once, my friends told me it is time to pick up and move on.
What is so important about moving on? I lost someone I love.
It has been dozens of mornings waking up and not seeing you asleep.
You are more than someone I wanted to spend my life with.
You were a comfort, a constant, a habit.
It has been five months since I have heard you tell me you love me,
and the memory is starting to fade. I can’t lose it too.
It has been one hundred seventy-four days, sixteen hours, and twenty-one minutes since I lost you.
To him.
