Letters for Muscles
March 10
My Dearest Muscles,
I’m feeling a little more collected today, but it’s still dreadful.
Chandler dragged me out of the office today. I didn’t understand why at first because we got in his car, and we just drove. We drove for a very long time. At one point, we pulled off on the side of a back road, and Chandler lost it. I’ve never seen him cry before, but it made me realize that I’m not the only one feeling the sting of your absence. Everyone needs you here, babe. It’s falling apart without you.
We talked for a long time. We’re both so angry that it had to be you. I’ll admit, I don’t understand why you of all people had to be the one that died. Why did you have to be taken from us? We were reasonably kind, caring, helpful, friendly, loving individuals. Sometimes I wonder why you had to die and not the lunatic sitting outside Liberty Markets, and I realize I haven’t got the answer.
But we’ve agreed to try and be thankful for small things.
Becoming closer to Chandler is a blessing in itself. I can see why you two were such good mates. He can see right through my brave face.
He’s going to come talk to me every day. He’s even brought food down, even though I haven’t been eating it. And he’s funny. I like that he’s still funny, even in the midst of the pain. I laugh so hard when we talk.
There’s a mutual understanding between us. We’ve both been locked in an inescapable grief. Everything we do, every minute of every day, we can’t escape this. Not when we wake up, not at the breakfast table, not when we go to work. I can’t even bury myself in the books to get away, can’t forget about it at dinner, not when I’m sitting in Noah’s office working. Certainly not when I inevitably climb into the cold and empty bed we should be sharing.
The grief is everywhere. It won’t leave me alone.
I miss you.
I love you.
Blondie
I’m feeling a little more collected today, but it’s still dreadful.
Chandler dragged me out of the office today. I didn’t understand why at first because we got in his car, and we just drove. We drove for a very long time. At one point, we pulled off on the side of a back road, and Chandler lost it. I’ve never seen him cry before, but it made me realize that I’m not the only one feeling the sting of your absence. Everyone needs you here, babe. It’s falling apart without you.
We talked for a long time. We’re both so angry that it had to be you. I’ll admit, I don’t understand why you of all people had to be the one that died. Why did you have to be taken from us? We were reasonably kind, caring, helpful, friendly, loving individuals. Sometimes I wonder why you had to die and not the lunatic sitting outside Liberty Markets, and I realize I haven’t got the answer.
But we’ve agreed to try and be thankful for small things.
Becoming closer to Chandler is a blessing in itself. I can see why you two were such good mates. He can see right through my brave face.
He’s going to come talk to me every day. He’s even brought food down, even though I haven’t been eating it. And he’s funny. I like that he’s still funny, even in the midst of the pain. I laugh so hard when we talk.
There’s a mutual understanding between us. We’ve both been locked in an inescapable grief. Everything we do, every minute of every day, we can’t escape this. Not when we wake up, not at the breakfast table, not when we go to work. I can’t even bury myself in the books to get away, can’t forget about it at dinner, not when I’m sitting in Noah’s office working. Certainly not when I inevitably climb into the cold and empty bed we should be sharing.
The grief is everywhere. It won’t leave me alone.
I miss you.
I love you.
Blondie