I still miss him.
I miss him in the moments where I laugh alone at something,
something I know we would have laughed at together.
I miss him when a song comes on and I realize what an inspired thing they’ve done with the arrangement.
I would turn left and I would say: ”Isn’t the way the acoustic just came in kind of perfect?”
I miss him when I see a cayak on top of a car and am supposed to shout ”Cayak!” at the top of my lungs
and punch someone with my left elbow, yet no one around knows the rules of this specific game,
the reasons for my sudden burst of uncharacteristic violence, nor why cayaks really matter at all.
I miss him when I drive through a long tunnel and need to hold my breath till we come out on the other side.
I wouldn’t look so crazy if he was there to do it with me.
I miss him at the flea market,
browsing used men’s teeshirts with texts that simply make no sense
(Night Club Hot Paris Rio Grande Vegas!)
I still miss him in so many ways, but most of all when I am honest
I miss the way he used to see me.
In his eyes my idiosyncrasies,
even the ones so totally out of sync seemed to align,
to make sense, to make up a person,
a person to be loved.
In his eyes my weaknesses were not something that needed to be hidden
simply because they couldn’t be.
And while he truly did see them,
he had the very rare gift of kindness of only pointing out my failings
when pointing them out was something necessary,
something to stop further, usually imminent, disaster from occurring.
To not say ”you are wrong here” in order to put one down,
but to help one raise herself up – that is something –
that is not nothing.
In his eyes I was somehow still beautiful, still good, even when I knew I wasn’t.
When I was acting out or turning in I was in a bad moment.
I was not a bad person.
Funny what a deep gift someone can give you just by letting you be alright,
despite it all.
I still miss him.
But I will also always have him.
I will always have him
I never really lost his eyes on me.
The way he once saw me is a way someone could once see me.
The way I could once be seen is a way that I might,
No matter the after.
No matter if who said what said when or did with whom.
The love he gave me
it was real, and I knew it.
It was real
and because it was real,
I will always have it.
I may always miss him.
And I will always have his eyes on me.