Vacuous Silence

I still see you. In your space on our bed. Sprawled out in a way that makes it difficult for me to join you. But now I can’t anymore. You’re gone. It feels like a piece of me went along with you the day you went. Even though I shouldn’t be lingering on you for longer than I have. My mind won’t let you go. Despite what everyone is telling me; I can’t let you go. All I do is see you in more places.

Like at the kitchen table blearily eating your cheerios. Waiting for me to come down and quietly join you. Both of us are not speaking until we’re much more awake than we were before. Which can be ten minutes or twenty. Depending on what time we had gotten to bed the night before. Or if one of us must work that day. When you leave to go to work and I have that day off, I used to enjoy the time alone. Enjoy the space that I had. Despite how empty it was without you.

I loved it because you used to come back.

Never thought that there would be a day when you didn’t come back. Where I would be waiting for you all day. Almost all night. Calling all our friends, family, and colleagues. Everyone that I knew would possibly see or hear from you during the day or night. But none of them had seen you. Heard from you. Or even knew where you might have possibly gone either. Of course, I called the police to look for you. Since it was something that I absolutely needed to do. They could be the ones to find you. I had hoped they would be the ones to find you. Out of everyone in the world to find you, the cops could be it. When they couldn’t, I just gathered everyone and searched for you. Looking through places, I had the faintest idea of where you could be.

Your mother found you. It was the worst horror of all our lives. We haven’t found out who did that. All we know is that you were strangled to death. That night I couldn’t sleep and lay on your side of the bed. Staring straight up at the ceiling. Feeling that if maybe if I fell asleep there that this would be all a nightmare. One that I soon wake up from like a stupid T.V show and find you at the table eating cheerios. Smiling at me with that sleepy smile that you always do.

Real life isn’t like T.V and it never happened.

And despite you being gone, I still see you. Still get glimpses of you at the kitchen table. Or feel your warmth on our bed. The sound of your breathing still fills my ears as I fall asleep in the bed we once shared. It’s torture. A torture that I can’t bring myself to end by getting rid of our bed. It’s just one thing that helps keep you alive for me. Like the dirty sweater of yours I found in the bathroom. I had picked it up before walking to the couch to sit with it. Pulling it close to my chest. Pressing my face into the chest of it as I inhaled your scent. Nearly feeling the way, you used to hold me. Both of us sitting on the couch with me in your lap. Face buried in your chest as I listened to you breathe and relax. Almost falling asleep to the sound of your heart beating. When I close my eyes, I can almost picture us doing this once again.

Me sitting on your lap as you tell me about your day. I can nearly hear your voice while I sit there. So much so that I relax on the couch. A second later, I felt a warm hand on my back, and I froze in place. Softly, you state,”I love you, little nip. Please take care of yourself.”

“I’ll be with you always.”,you promise. My eyes open and I realized that I fell asleep on the couch with your sweater. I thought that I would feel terrible. More grief stricken than I had before. But I felt warm and more centered in weeks. A tiny smile came to my face as I nuzzled your sweater.