I used to think I couldn’t go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.
Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. And I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse and I wasn’t going to be okay for a very long time.
Because losing someone isn’t an occasion or an event. It doesn’t just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favourite coffee mug; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my loundry pile.
I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish I could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, I begin to lose you all over again