When someone dies…  You don’t lose them all at once. 

You start looking around, and forgetting what used to be there…  You can’t remember what they smell like…  Or what their favorite color was…  Or what hymns they loved best…  You lose them in tiny little pieces.  The worst thing is that you don’t even know you’ve lost the piece until you look for it.  I opened a box and there she was…  As soon as I lifted the flaps, I could smell her all around me and I wanted to just crawl into the box and stay there for a very long time.  I wanted to shut the flaps and trap her scent in there for the rest of eternity…  Instead, I foolishly squandered it…  I sat there inhaling deeply and wanting to crawl in there with her…  Every little old lady I see makes me think of her…  Only how she was prettier and more graceful at their age…  How much pride she took in herself…  How hard she worked at every single thing she did… 

          You don’t lose all those memories at once…  They just get pushed back a little more…  and then a little bit more…  And then they’re back there so far you can’t get to them any more, even when you want to.  The best you can hope for is good pictures, and family to help you fill in the holes…  I’m not sure I have any holes yet, but I know she’s not as vivid as she used to be…  It’s dumb, because I went a year and half without seeing her before this…  What’s 2 months?  2 months is eternity when you know damn well you can’t see them again, no matter what…  That’s what 2 months is, babe.  2 months is hell when you can’t seem to express anything…  no thoughts, no feelings, no regrets…  Just nothing.  I think it’s just that when someone you love dies, you try so hard to hold on to them, that it’s like trying to hold sand in your hand – the harder you squeeze and try to hold on, the more sand slips through your fingers.  The more you try to hold on to every laugh and smile and hug and memory, the more they fade… 

          I want her back…  I just want her back…

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