Dear Mike,

 

It has been over 2.9 years since you died.

 

Since you died, I have diligently and carefully worked to keep you alive in my mind.

I have replayed our conversations thousands and thousands of times.

And, I have memorized our words by heart.

 

In my mind, I still talk to you every single day.

I know exactly what you’d say in our imaginary dialogues.

Except, I can not hear your voice.

 

Over and over again, I  have watched our life together play out in my imagination.

In my thoughts, you are still here.

You are still real.

Except, you’re not here anymore…

 

 

However, despite my careful curating of your memory, it has begun.

I have started to forget. 

I can not recall some of the small details of you.

 

I came late to the party.

I wasn’t there when you had surgery years ago.

When you opened your eyes, the woman standing there in a pretty dress wasn’t me. 

She was your first wife.

 

I don’t remember the details of your surgery because I wasn’t there.  The reason I know about your operation is that you told me about it as we lay in bed one night.  I remember recognizing your past and tracing your scar with my fingers.

 

And, now, as I type this, I can not remember how far down your torso your scar went?

Did you wear your scar on your left or right side?

I just don’t know anymore.

 

Also, was your birthmark on the right or left side?

I can’t remember that either.

 

And, which earlobe did you used to rub between your fingers while you talked on the phone?

I think it was your right ear because you were left handed.  That would make sense, but I don’t know for certain anymore.

 

And,  now that I am admitting things, your voice is beginning to fade too.  In my mind, I can “hear” you say certain phrases  – in your exact cadence.

But, your voice itself is beginning to become fainter.  Now, I can’t always recall the tone in which you spoke.

 

Evanescence is awful and unavoidable.  No matter how careful I am to remember, with time, my ability to recall diminishes.  I simply can not remember things with the clarity I once did.  Details fade.  Things that were once easy to picture have become out of focus.  When your familiar face vanished in the physical dimension; in my mind’s eye, it slowly began to blur too.  Your once intimate voice has become harder to hear inside my head because it has been years since I heard it.  Hands that once held mine have become difficult to picture – even when I close my eyes. All of this has happened because it is simply not possible to preserve physical traits and characteristics in perfect form inside one’s mind.  As human beings, we need to see, touch, hear and feel someone to know their physical body by heart.  And, when someone dies we lose this and with it, we lose our sense of their physical being.

 

Last night, I stood outside and as I looked up at the moon I missed you.  Instinctively, I went up onto my tiptoes just like I did when I would kiss you not so long ago.  But, now, I don’t remember how far up I would have to extend myself and how far down you would bend because it has been almost three years since your lips kissed mine.  The geometry of our kiss is becoming less familiar to me.  This bothers me, a lot.

 

But, I suppose none of these things really matter.

Except, that they do.

These things do matter to me because when I forget them these details become lost forever. 

 

Thankfully, I can still recall your love with absolute clarity.

As my memory fails me and your physical being begins to fade, the intangible things like your love remain etched in my Soul.  I will know your love by heart forever.  

 

All my Love,

 

Stace