Five months, Mama.
I miss all the parts I loved and all the parts that drove me nuts. I miss the way too early morning phone calls, the bizarre photos you'd find on the internet and set as your profile image, the phone calls asking questions about itunes are claiming your photos were all gone, the terrible nicknames you'd give people who wronged Amy and that I would always fear would accidentally make their way in to official correspondence, and the way you'd call to passerbys on the street asking for directions or help.
I miss laying in bed next to you talking late at night, or watching show's you'd already seen but recorded for me and so would watch again. I miss you calling to me "ok, just one more thing...". I miss the ridiculous word games we'd play late at night on the phone. I miss laughing till my eyes teared up and I could barely breathe.
I miss taking care of you and surrounding you with love, and I miss you taking care of me -- driving three hours to be there for minor surgery and to make me lunch when you could barely walk yourself and I lived in a second story apartment.
I miss talking with you about the past, and talking with you about the future. I miss imagining your future, and my future with you in it -- a duplex with two porches, having you close by for our kids (and for me). I miss thinking about what you'd look like old, or imagining you finding a new love. I miss believing that although today and yesterday were hard and sometimes it didn't look like there was a way it could improve, that tomorrow held all the possibility in the world for you.
I miss you.
I miss all the parts I loved and all the parts that drove me nuts. I miss the way too early morning phone calls, the bizarre photos you'd find on the internet and set as your profile image, the phone calls asking questions about itunes are claiming your photos were all gone, the terrible nicknames you'd give people who wronged Amy and that I would always fear would accidentally make their way in to official correspondence, and the way you'd call to passerbys on the street asking for directions or help.
I miss laying in bed next to you talking late at night, or watching show's you'd already seen but recorded for me and so would watch again. I miss you calling to me "ok, just one more thing...". I miss the ridiculous word games we'd play late at night on the phone. I miss laughing till my eyes teared up and I could barely breathe.
I miss taking care of you and surrounding you with love, and I miss you taking care of me -- driving three hours to be there for minor surgery and to make me lunch when you could barely walk yourself and I lived in a second story apartment.
I miss talking with you about the past, and talking with you about the future. I miss imagining your future, and my future with you in it -- a duplex with two porches, having you close by for our kids (and for me). I miss thinking about what you'd look like old, or imagining you finding a new love. I miss believing that although today and yesterday were hard and sometimes it didn't look like there was a way it could improve, that tomorrow held all the possibility in the world for you.
I miss you.
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