I took the flower pot in this morning, the one that I acquired the day after your death. The non-stop begonias that blossomed in it since that day have finally given up in face of the oncoming cold. Next year, that pot will hold ornamental grasses, your favourite.Â
I miss you, my friend. Every. Single. Day. In the morning as I sip my coffee, when I work on the latest jigsaw puzzle, when I come across a good Netflix show or yummy recipe, when I read something quirky or outrageous in the news. So many times during the day I make a mental note to tell you about something… I talk to you nonstop, but there’s no reply.. I guess that bodes well for my so-called sanity, but there are times I’d gladly give up a few moments of reality just to hear your voice.
I keep thinking about the puzzle I was working on when you left…the one with the motorcycle club. You would have loved everything about it, not the least of which is the reminder of our days with The Daltons. Flirting with danger was one of the things we did well together. That puzzle serves as an excruciating reminder that those days are gone forever.
Yet, you remain fully and completely in my heart. Your breathing is normal, your body is strong, and you are feisty as hell. Thankfully, you never lost that last quality.
I love you.
