Letters for Muscles
March 16
My Dearest Muscles,
Nothing’s any fun anymore. Even when I anticipate things, they’re just so flat when they come around.
Chandler and I went to go get the things from your house today… all of it. Both for the movement and just to have. It was like walking through a graveyard. Neither of us wanted to be there, but we had to. There was clean-up to do.
We didn’t get very far. I had to cry in the garage. I haven’t touched “your” space, and it just feels so awful knowing that we’ll never share that bed again. I’ll never have to pull you out of your office so you’ll sleep. We’ll never fall asleep in front of the fireplace. You’ll never rest your head in my lap when we sit on the couch after your day at work. Babe, it’s just so wrong that you aren’t here.
I want this all to be over. Losing you is already so hard. I want to be back in control of my life again.
I want to feel safe and loved. It’s going to take a long while… if I ever get back to that place at all. I love you, Dean. You really are my soulmate. You were one of a kind. My best mate.
I’ve been thinking about that dream I had the other night. You know the one, babe. You were there. We were together, and we had four beautiful kids—three little boys and a girl. Everything was so perfect, and so lovely. It was an oasis in the middle of this never-ending desert.
I wanted to say thanks for that, babe.
I know I don’t seem all that appreciative. I cried in the shower today. I just want to hug you like there’s no tomorrow. Then, I realize there really isn’t a tomorrow after all.
But that dream. It was so warm and tender. I remember thinking I didn’t want it to end, but I knew you’d have to go soon. I wanted nothing more than to lay my head on your bare chest. I remember every nook, every cranny, every broken bone.
I miss you, but thanks for the “visit.”
Love you so much,
Blondie
Nothing’s any fun anymore. Even when I anticipate things, they’re just so flat when they come around.
Chandler and I went to go get the things from your house today… all of it. Both for the movement and just to have. It was like walking through a graveyard. Neither of us wanted to be there, but we had to. There was clean-up to do.
We didn’t get very far. I had to cry in the garage. I haven’t touched “your” space, and it just feels so awful knowing that we’ll never share that bed again. I’ll never have to pull you out of your office so you’ll sleep. We’ll never fall asleep in front of the fireplace. You’ll never rest your head in my lap when we sit on the couch after your day at work. Babe, it’s just so wrong that you aren’t here.
I want this all to be over. Losing you is already so hard. I want to be back in control of my life again.
I want to feel safe and loved. It’s going to take a long while… if I ever get back to that place at all. I love you, Dean. You really are my soulmate. You were one of a kind. My best mate.
I’ve been thinking about that dream I had the other night. You know the one, babe. You were there. We were together, and we had four beautiful kids—three little boys and a girl. Everything was so perfect, and so lovely. It was an oasis in the middle of this never-ending desert.
I wanted to say thanks for that, babe.
I know I don’t seem all that appreciative. I cried in the shower today. I just want to hug you like there’s no tomorrow. Then, I realize there really isn’t a tomorrow after all.
But that dream. It was so warm and tender. I remember thinking I didn’t want it to end, but I knew you’d have to go soon. I wanted nothing more than to lay my head on your bare chest. I remember every nook, every cranny, every broken bone.
I miss you, but thanks for the “visit.”
Love you so much,
Blondie