Conversations with an empty chair (6) - I don’t feel much of anything right now
The grief hits you in a while. And the greater... the grief is, the longer it gets to hit. But when it does hit you… Boy do you go down.
Took a few years for his absence to sink in. Or, I don’t know, maybe it hasn’t done so yet. Not fully. I still expect him to answer the phone when I call home, I still expect to turn around a corner and see him walking towards me. I still look at every black Volvo, thinking he’s the driver.
I still expect him to be there when I cry.
But he’s not. He’ll never be.
Why do I keep talking to you as if you’re still here? It’s just an empty chair I’m talking to. No one’s there. At best, you’re in my imagination. You’re in my memory, too, of course, but that’s only in the past. It’s not now. When it hurts too much to breathe, I imagine you talking me down from the ledge. Only it’s not really you, is it? It’s an empty chair. It’s nothing.