last night as i was falling asleep, i couldn't get my mind away from one thing: i have been married to my perfect One for exactly three months, and she has been without her's for exactly two.

the former feels no less like a dream, and the latter feels no more like reality. i made her a card the night that he died, but every time i get it out to write something, i picture her standing in front of a room full of sobbing people (and i've never heard anything like this before), dressed in black (and i wonder if she already had those clothes, or if she had to go buy them), giving the eulogy (and i wonder if she'd been preparing herself through every round of cancer, or if she didn't think about it until he died), and i don't have anything to say (because they're my age, because they were going to get married next fall, because i can't comprehend how she can go on when i can't even delete his fucking number from my phone).


[ iron & wine ]