re-remembering

No matter how many times I tell myself- or how many times I stumble across something- I have to start all over again. Found a birthday card I gave you. Knocks the breath out of me every single time. then the whole dialog starts again- the first split second I think, “need to give this to Rick.” Then it’s, “oh my god, I can’t, because you’re not here anymore.” next I replay that whole morning in my head. think to myself, “no, you can’t be gone, you can’t.” “how could this happen?! WHY did this happen?!” and I think how I’m never going to see you again. and I miss you. and I cry – and cry – and cry. then, when I finally get myself half-way pulled together, I say half-way, because that’s as together as I get these days. half-together, and something else surfaces- the base for the cordless phones. I know the batteries were wasted long before you got killed- so that means, when I plug the phone back in – the caller id will be full of calls from you. and I think, “oh my god, you were probably the last person I talked to on that phone. and I can’t ever talk to you again because you’re not here anymore.” and on and on and on it goes. I miss you so much Rick. I love you.

maybe tomorrow

My overnight bag is on the floor beside the bed. It’s full of your things. Whatever didn’t fly out or wasn’t taken by the police that morning is here. I know I need to go through it and put it all away. But like everything else I wait- and wait. This twisted game I play with myself. I don’t want it to end yet. For so long, I’ve picked up your pieces, put them back together, put them away, -I’m good at it. Because I was doing it for you. I’m afraid now- so afraid of how I’ll fill the hours when it’s all done. So many nights I spent at the scene picking up little pieces of your truck, packing away our house, – once it’s done, it’s done forever. I’ll never put your shoes away again because you’re not here to leave them lying around. I’ll never look through the computer for pictures of you again, because there will never be any new pictures of you. So I’ll sit here and wait. Every now and then I’ll look at the bag with your tennis shoes poking through the zipper and I’ll think to myself, “I’m going to go through that stuff today and put it away.” But I won’t, not right now….. maybe tomorrow.