It is dark so early now. It adds to the intense malaise I feel in the afternoons. It's on these afternoons when I really think about what's going on and the lighting adds to the nightmare effect. I move very slowly as I heat the pot of boiling water for our soba noodles.
I can't stand it. A thought that comes into my head so often I'd call it my theme. I can't stand it.
Later I get back on your computer to send one of your brothers a song he had asked for. While I'm on, Audrey asks to see her baby videos. So we watch a few. I can always tell before a word is spoken, when you are the one holding the camera- by the angle you film at and especially if it's silent. You would get annoyed if I'd come in and start blabbing away while you had been taking an artistic film of our daughter. We hear your voice talking to her and she tells me she remembers you. I miss your voice so very much. "I hate my voice," you used to say. "I love it!" and vice versa. What is it that makes the sound of your beloved's voice so, so sweet?
Today I am finalizing the draft of my will with the lawyer while Audrey's in preschool. The thought of leaving Audrey makes me sick so I skim the draft quickly. It's also the reason why it's taken me so long to complete it.
The first year, you are getting through each season, each holiday, each milestone. It is shocking, raw, intense. Around now, I have a new clarity about the permanence of your disappearance. It's not just "getting through" anymore. There is all of life. July 23rd, the day you were to come home to us, is not coming. I can't stand it.