One by one the teardrops fall as I write you...

     I have some questions, and, yes, I am still using the literary apostrophe (my former A.P students will remember the definition of that one) to send impossible thoughts to impossible absences. First of all, HOW? HOW has grain-by-grain of sand filtered its way through yet ANOTHER series of seemingly infinite hourglasses? Second-minute-hour-day-month-year...YEARS, in fact...seven of them, excruciating, and marked by hollows of missing you. Secondly, WHY? WHY does everyone I love go away? Such a stupid, pointless question asked with all the selfish idiocy of a child stamping her tiny, tyrannical feet, but I cannot help myself. The phrase "it's not fair is still reverberating around in my skull (I know someone you would have loved who tried to explain to me about acoustics. Had I gotten more time there, I would have understood the science better, but it was never about that. To be honest, I could have simply listened to that voice forever; however...see previous complainant question). 

     This year, Autumn lingered just a bit longer than usual, and you know how strong a tether that forged between us, and I am trying to comfort myself that the tether is still there. The moon, too, has been brazen and friendly, and I'm sure that your vantage point affords you a better view. It is a tiny comfort but it does little to mitigate the lack of YOU. I think what is the most difficult is that nearly daily, I see or hear or experience or FEEL something that immediately fills me with so much need to tell you that I fear as though I might drown. What do I do with that? Remember the thumb on my lungs? You are one of very few who not only know that feeling and what it means, but have also caused that feeling, that pressure in my chest that accompanies too great an emotion, some enervating and some destroying. Rest assured that you only ever the caused the good feelings, the ones that carbonated me. I miss you.

       Back to the whispered "shhhhhh" as another year without you grain-by-grains itself from top to bottom of the glass. I know how silly it is to write to you words that you  can't see, but tonight, just tonight, I will comfort myself with the absolute certainty that though you will never read them, you already (and forever) know them. 

I love you.

I miss you,