Time is the Hardest Part
Time has such a way in death, doesn’t it? It’s already been two weeks—yet it’s only been two weeks. Two weeks without you. Two weeks too long. Mornings are the hardest. The world wakes up, the sun rises, life moves forward—but I don’t. Not really. Not without you. I linger in bed longer than I should…why even bother getting up? You were my first smile of the day, my first reason to rise. The quiet is thick. Silence, cold and empty, where you used to be. And yet, I still find myself whispering, “Good morning my love” to the space you should fill. Days are the hardest. Clocked in for work, my chair feels too big, too lonely. You were always here. My coworker, my sidekick, my silent companion. Your snores filled the space between calls. Your eyes locked onto mine, watching, waiting, knowing me better than anyone ever could. Now, I turn and there’s no one there. No soft breath. No rhythmic rise and fall of your chest beside me. N...
