Maybe that's why I see you when I tun around, find myself watching the streetcar for your familiar face, wandering the aisles of your favorite haunts, wondering if the days could really turn into months and then a year.
This anniversary is melancholy. I walk the steps you used to take, wishing for your laughter on the phone, your playful (and HORRIBLE) jokes, a seanie-ism to share.
A year ago this week, I watched you say goodbye to so many that love you. You said your last words to me, to Sara, to your boy you adored. I got to hear stories of your adventures, watch your son wake up from a long, deep hibernation, prepare you for what you feared the most - and longed for so deeply.
Time moves, even now, and I hear your footsteps, see you dancing in the hall.
When sunlight streams in, your shadow glides through the warmth. When I see a flash of light, you come and go from the room in an instant - but I know that you were there. Can smell your Chanel #5, if only for a moment.
Happy Anniversary of another day we shared for many, many years. Happy Anniversary to the memories of Sunriver, bad hair days and quilts that turned into forts.
Yes, I miss you - but I know you're close whenever I need you. What mischief are you up to today?