Building Blocks.

We had our routines.

Special places.

Loving practices.

Did you have your coffee?

Did you have your tea?

A collective echo of, did you take your medicines?

After 35 stuff happens like that.

That said, I think you truly built a life here, and for that I am so very happy because I truly believe it was for the first time you had a community that felt like it was yours, one that felt like our Cheers.

One that knew your name and rooted for you.

Everybody knew your name.

We knew shop owners and made impressions and vice versa.

Ones who laughed and knew our orders.

People who knew you so well they questioned when I did have to go out, asked where you were.

Then I had to tell them why my partner in crime was absent.

Yesterday, I went to a store we used to frequent.

I hadn't been in several months because of your diagnosis; because in reality it didn't mean I didn't want to, it just meant that taking care of you came with the understanding that I couldn't really get out, I was on hospice duty.

But also in truth, it wasn't the same going out without you anyways, so I didn't care.

Then after your passing, I truly didn't want to get out.

So yesterday, I walked in to a shop where the assistant knew us well.

She knew of your diagnosis and looked at me.

With tears in her eyes she asked, "how is he?"

I looked her in the eyes trying not to burst into the same tears, but answered, and said you had passed about two months ago.

She said, "oh I am so sorry."

I wanted to shrink.

This is why I hate to leave the couch.

But to you my darling?

What is not sorry about this story is about knowing we built a life together in a place where people cared.

And not just about us, but about you.

So as painful as each day can be for me, I am reminded of all of those who loved and thought about you and I, and had sweet memories about you; all because of our little routines and favorite places.

You are missed, and in the most of mystical of ways.

You make me smile, I'll just never get the dimples to match.

I will eventually figure out a way to explain how you are doing when asked, I just need to figure it out without me ending up crying.

But apparently that is not yet...

I told her how you "were" but then ran out to avoid a box of tissues being served in my face.

I lost it.

I guess to be on a positive note, you can say at least I am getting out.

Baby steps, but also building blocks.

I hope to reach the top again, and I know you will help.

I love you I love you I love you.

Xoxo, C.