You are everywhere and yet nowhere.
Sometimes, you are everywhere. I hear songs you love playing in restaurants and shops. I hear jokes that you would have told. At least weekly, I see silver Honda Civics in parking lots and in traffic. It still makes me pause. I see people wearing shirts you owned. I close my eyes and hear your laugh. I see your facial expressions. Sweet memories pop into my brain at random times and sometimes I still laugh out loud. The way you impacted me is obvious–in my decisions, preferences, and the way I see the world. You are everywhere.
But, sometimes you are nowhere. The space between us grows. Sometimes, I cannot remember details about you. My brain cannot bring certain memories of you forward, or they feel distant. Over four years separates us and sometimes that feels huge. You aren’t in conversations anymore. People aren’t asking about you. Your name isn’t spoken. Your witty comebacks are not heard. Your body, and your warmth no longer felt. You aren’t in recent photos or even memories of last year, or the year before, or the one before that. Sometimes it is as if you were never here. Sometimes, you are nowhere.
How can that be? You are so present, yet so distant. You are everywhere and nowhere.