Yesterday was another twist of the knife, another punch in the gut. You've now been dead as long as we were together. I still catch myself speaking about you and thinking about you in present tense. I still find myself thinking how much you would like something or be amused by something and wanting to call or e-mail you. I still wonder what students would have made of "Mrs. _____" if you had lived, we had gotten married, and I had taken your name. Given how much some of them butcher "Ms. _____," that might have been interesting.

I think of you whenever I see daffodils, whenever I drive past the marina or the state park, whenever I stop for buns at the Asian grocery, whenever I wear the lotion I bought to massage you, whenever I make tea. In the middle of the night, I wake up and want to reach for you. When I find your side of the bed empty, my tears flow freely down my face and neck and soak into my pillows.

the love letter collection
submitted 10:39 AM EST
Tuesday, June 5, 2012