Monday, March 05, 2007

Sober

We celebrated you today. There were 500 people there to honor your life. Some spoke, shared silly memories. I didn't. My memories are personal, intimate. How can I explain what you were to me to these people? How can I share the times we had? I didn't cry much. That was only for you and me.

They said they never saw you mad. But I have. Your lower lip would quiver, and my heart felt like it was going to break.

They are burying you now. I can't stand the thought of your body in the ground, cold, with the seasons changing all around it, not looking like you. How will you see without your glasses?

My heart hurts. I can't believe you're gone. I will never talk to you again. I will never see you again. I know I've said these things to you before but it was only in the heat of anger. It is difficult knowing that they are true, and neither of us has any choice about it.