Dear Eddie,
I was inspired when I read poet Megan Falley’s list of things she wanted to tell her beloved partner Andrea Gibson a few days after Andrea’s death.
So, I made a list of things I’ve been wanting to tell you:
I planted your pots on the patio. The jasmine you started smells so sweet and is growing like crazy, instinctively curling around the lovely bird trellis you installed. It’s been so hot I’ve had to water every day. I have more basil than I can use, just like you did last summer. I’ve been too lazy to make pesto. Remember those years when we had a big backyard with a proper garden and you made enough pesto to freeze and get us through the entire year?
The sheets and towels don’t get washed as often as they did when you were here. It seems you had some sort of internal clock that reminded you when to stay on top of this task and oh so many others. I figured out how to add dish soap to the dispenser and how to control the flow from a little bit to a lot. It stopped working for a while, and eventually I realized it runs on batteries, and they had died. Don’t get me started on the smoke detectors.
I think I’m going to move. It'll be hard to live in a space you’ve never inhabited. I like having your energy all around me here in our apartment - and the knowledge that you have touched every countertop, walked into every room and gazed at every mirror is a comfort that I shall miss. Your fingerprints are everywhere. I can still conjure up the sound of your footsteps on the treadmill, and I can still see you standing in the kitchen making dinner.
I’ve kept the two pillows that were on your side of the bed in place. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, Charlie has rearranged them in such a way that I see a shape under the covers, and I think it’s you. After a few seconds I remember.
I got a turntable and have been playing our favorite albums. We spent so many hours listening to music. When we moved in together, our merged collection was really something. I’m glad we held onto so many of our records. Lately I’ve been playing Blue a lot. And Eva Cassidy. Oh, and Tuck and Patti. All our old Neil Young and John Prine albums. It’s a surefire way to get the tears rolling down my face. But honestly, it doesn’t take much.
I still can’t bring myself to eat dinner at the kitchen counter or the dining room table. Your absence is just too noticeable then. I sit on the couch instead.
Mr. and Mrs. Finch returned! The other morning, I was in a Zoom meeting that you should have been attending. Mr. Finch showed up and perched on the patio railing singing more loudly than I’ve ever heard him before. I figured it was you, announcing your presence and participating the best you could.
I took a bunch of your clothes to a men’s shelter. I also gave some to the kids, even though they’re mostly too big. Max likes the feel of your soft shirts against his skin. He wears your KC Chiefs shirt often. We’ll think of you when we cheer the team on this season. And believe it or not, Trav and Tay are still together.
You’d be proud of our kids for carrying forward your silly songs and sayings. In the car on the way to drop off the youngest at camp, the parents serenaded her with Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah.
I miss your laugh.
Abbie’s going to make a quilt out of some of your ties, shirts and jeans so I can wrap myself up in you.
I’ve been painting a lot. It’s kind of been my way of reaching out to you, communicating with you. Expressing all the emotions that bubble up. The paintings have names like Still Standing, Chaos, Storm, Lost at Sea, I Can Still See You, Tears.
Charlie has turned her early-morning-ear-licking attention toward me. You had said you hoped she’d think of you whenever she licked someone else’s ears. I’m convinced she’s thinking of you. Every single morning.
And me – I think about you all day long.
