The consumption of my focus is attributed wholly to the absence of my love. “We have all the time in the world.” You were wrong and we both knew it. Our hearts were broken and we both hid it.
Your world was limited to the walls of your house and the leather of your green chair. Your time was kept by the frequency of the morphine dosing. Four hours. Three hours. Two hours. One hour. “Mrs. Linda, is it okay if I flush this, because I can’t leave it here?” They took away your body and wheeled it right out the door, along with Grandma’s heart. My heart went with your soul, through the roof and out of sight.
Is it possible to love someone who doesn’t technically exist? You did exist and I love you, and you being gone makes me love you no less. From a black and white point of view, I love nothing. But truly I love my everything, my everything just happens to be dead.
Why do they call it losing someone? I didn’t lose you. You didn’t walk away from me on the cereal aisle in Wal*Mart. I know exactly where you are. Half of you is set in a box awaiting the reunion with your mother and the other half is in a box waiting to be an addition to the beach where you grew up. Your soul is with your Father and your shadow falls on us.
Now that everything is over and I’m no longer busy with you, it happens to be very obvious that you are gone. You left me and you promised. You promised that you would be there for everything. You promised! But just like my heart, you broke your promise. You had no idea how much time was left in your world, but you knew you wouldn’t be here for the rest of mine.
It just isn’t fair that I had to give you up, that I had to give up on you. I don’t have a grampa. I have no man that loves me with no reserves and no contention. The heart inside of me misses you, but the shell can’t show it.
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