I can't remember

Original date 30 August 2011

Last night when I went to bed I suddenly couldn't conjure up Brian's voice. I tried to do this before I closed my eyes, trying to remember the sound of his "good night sweet one" and "I love you." I cried myself to sleep.

I want to believe he is not far away and that he waits for me, for the day we can be reunited.

I don't smell him anymore. When I walk into my closet, his essence is gone. It no longer clings to the shirts I kept. It no longer lingers on the shirt he was wearing when he died.

Lately, it feels like if I try to live too hard or remember too much, he gets further away. But maybe if I can find a way to live like he is here...because my love for him is so strong and if I can feel it...if I don't ever let go...he won't either.

I remember his face the last time he said I love you. I remember there was no question in my mind that he did, it was overwhelming, it was vibrant and pulsing and in the room around us. It was the one thing he desperately wanted to say and he managed to say it through the haze of medication.

I remember the last thing he said to me...when I said, "I love you, Brian." He said, "I know." He never spoke again.