Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
Richard~ I did a task for you today and wanted to tell you about it. You are still gone though and I couldn’t. It is hard when you are gone when I don’t have your voice in my ear or your hands on my body. The task reminded me of your fingers parting my skin, your eyes tasting my pleasure.I keep my cell phone in my pocket and wait to hear the quiet vibration of an electronic caress through the thinness of my pants…I bless the technology that allows you to touch me. It reminds me that you still exist, that you are coming back and that everything is still OK.
Sometimes when you are gone I fall off track, I grow sad because no one is there to see it. Pieces of me blow away and I run to gather them close to me as if I have spilled my bag on the street. I try to steady myself to straighten what has toppled but only succeed half of the time. You can’t help me make it right and that makes it worse for me somehow, to figure it all out on my own. I don’t like that.
I don’t like missing you. I don’t like realizing I need you because need always ends in pain. There has been enough pain and maybe that is why I need you so. You stopped me from hurting when I couldn’t do it alone. Remember when I decided it was over with Mark, those nights of indecision where you made me hold strong. I couldn’t have moved past him if not for you. Is that when I started needing you?
Voices are different when you are gone, spread out more yet oddly they cover me less. Your voice of logic, of wisdom, of ownership is not heard by me and I fall prey to those less deserving of what I offer. I miss your grounding voice of approval in my accomplishments as much as I miss the flash of irritation when I disappoint you.
It is harder at night, isn’t everything. Even harder when you aren’t there to warn me against the night…reminding me that it still gets hard and that is alright. It is still alright. We both know what causes me to mourn. What holds me in a hard grasp, what I am so close to moving past yet haven’t made it yet. I dread the hours before falling asleep for it is when my mind lingers to everything bad and everything behind me and everything ahead of me that has changed and will change.
You tell me everything changes, we all love, we all lose and even knowing that we still..all love and all lose. It is what makes us human, fallible, lacking some how but isn’t it also what makes us real and whole. You are teaching me that. If we were never whole we could never break.
You break me.
You break me all the while holding me… even knowing I have not been whole in such a long time. And when I can’t sleep I get up to write, knowing that is what you would urge me to do. Only it reminds me that you live in my writing these days and it makes me taste you. Have you ever tasted a memory? I have. It is stinging or soft, sometimes it leads me back to bed and covers me. It sits with me while I go to sleep. Yes, I have tasted a memory. I miss the taste that reminds me I only write the story of our mingled lives now. I forget all I wrote before.I miss the hands that teach me that even through all the numbness I can feel. I can break. And then you look at me and I know it is alright because you see what I see too, you feel me. I think maybe we should make a rule, I am good with rules. Don’t allow me to hurt while you are gone, remind me that you are coming back, leave me with the feel of your touch and the marks of your hand on my flesh.
Just a few more days now.