So, I have been thinking on it lately, that you are alone. You are alone without him. I do not mean this in the way most people think of one being alone. It is only that I have only known you together, and the thought of you without him is not a thought I can have. I cannot see the kitchen table and the garden or the snowed in hillside. I simply cannot see you at all.
I think of what I would say to you if I could be there in the capacity in which I would like to be there. And the things I would say would be over that kitchen table. I think of how most of what I say in this projection, is not said at all. I think of how heavy the room would feel and how breathing is what we strive for. I would make the tea. I would boil the artichoke. I would wash the dishes. If I could, I would care for you in a way you once cared for me when I was alone and wandering on your side of the world.
I am the age now that you were when you married him. I remember your wedding. I wore a dress and sat on a balcony and I did not entirely understand the formality of such an event. But I was mesmerized. That night has, after all these years, remained fresh in my mind and become a standard of sorts to the kind of love and the kind of life I want for myself. I have never in my life met two people more in love. And if there is another life, I am sure you will love him there too.
I believe there are some things which happen to us, that we will never truly recover from. Is it morbid or is it wrong of me to think this? Even more so to say this? I do not know. I know only, in my mind, one can never become whole again when a piece of them is taken away. It is simply math. I also believe it is alright to part, to be fractured– to lose and bury a part of who you are. I do not know if time mends. I have not lived long enough.