dreamstime_xs_61319666.jpgWritten 2.28.16.

Whenever I was caught up in a deep sadness, Steve would pull me over to lay my head on his chest. Warm, soft, the grounding of his steady, slow heartbeat. He would gather me in even closer for awhile, where I could breathe him in and breathe out the pain.

Tonight I am longing for my companion and comforter. It feels like forever since I’ve had a chance to see him, just to be with him.

So my heavy heart gravitates over to Steve’s side of the bed, like a mewling infant in need of nourishment. But my arms come up against cold, flat, vacant sheets. Such a cruel trick, when the very one who could bring you comfort is gone, carrying out a different role in absentia as the root of your pain. It just can’t be…but it is. It’s all upside down and backwards.

But I know what I need. It’s simple: I need my Steve to help me grieve Steve.