now what

 

This is the first moment, the first second I've been truly alone since he died. 

Alone is the only way I can do this. It's the only way I can be with him. 

I wrap myself up in his old t-shirts and sweatshirts. I slow dance with his ghost in the living room and sob into his pillow until my skin burns red welts of tears. I think about cleaning the pantry, but it would mean throwing out the stale Oreos he asked me to buy last month and I can't let go of even the tiniest piece of him yet. I find a pair of his socks somehow still in the laundry hamper and I don't even wash them, just hold them, because they used to hold him.

There are things I am supposed to do - call the social security office, write thank you notes, take care of credit cards and deeds to the car and house. None of these will get done today. None. There have been too many distractions since September 27 - and this is the only moment I've been allowed to be alone with him.

He asked me to keep writing. I'm not sure why - nothing in life seems worth sharing without him in it.