Realization

Dear David,

Today has been the craziest day.

First a phone call, early, to tell me officially that the search for your body has been called off...

I think as I put down the phone I was ready to accept that you are really gone, but then I saw the bottle of orange juice, left on the kitchen counter, just as you always did, no matter how many times I would grumble, and somehow I just can't shake the feeling that you are near.

Maybe it was me who left it there, although I don't remember getting it out of the fridge last night.

Or maybe it was one of the kids.  It was just so odd to see it in the exact place you always left it.

I went to work.

I had to somehow feel normal, or maybe it was just an attempt to distract myself from what comes next.

People keep looking at me, their faces sad and their mouths move without making any sound at first as if they are struggling for words.

And I see the pity in their eyes as they finally offer awkward condolences.

And I let them hug me, listen to their offers of help and then watch them walk away.

The boss offered me more time off, but at the moment I need to work. Sitting home, answering the phone, pulling sympathy cards from the letterbox makes it too real.

It makes you dead. 

Your mother came around today.  I have never seen her look so broken. So hollow.  Like the life in her has been sucked out and replaced by..I don't know what.

I guess I thought she would have been crying, but perhaps like me, she has run out of tears.

Instead, she hugged me.  Perhaps the first genuine hug we have ever shared.

And then I made her a cup of tea. Of course, I could never make it as well as you could, but I guess I will learn.

I find myself wandering aimlessly when I'm alone in the house.  I walked into your office at one time, almost asking you a question before realizing that you were not there.

I stopped there for a moment, looking at your desk and seeing it tidy as it usually is.

Although, it wasn't tidy yesterday, or the day before.  It hasn't been tidy since I searched it, looking for some clue as to why you had left.

Perhaps James or Katy sorted it.

I was going to ask them, but Katy was out with Brian, and James, I think he was with Blair again.

I keep asking him about the laptop, but he is evasive so I am left to think that he is still trying to crack the password.

Billie Paulson rang again.  She wants to come and talk to me.   I asked her why, but  all she would say was that she wanted to talk about you and perhaps she could put my mind at rest.

I really don't know why she is so insistent on coming to talk to me.   I am worried that she wants to turn my life into a media circus.  Nothing like a grieving widow to lift ratings I guess.

Gary keeps calling too.  And I keep ignoring him.  Although the last message he left was so weird.

He was rambling, I think he was drunk again.  He kept saying he was sorry, and that you had left a message, scrawled across his mirror, telling him to stay away from me.

The guy has flipped out I think.  You are dead.

And there is no such thing as ghosts.

James just rang.

Looks like I finally get to meet the mysterious Blair.