Chris,
Magnus graduated from his Cottontails classroom today. He’s so outgoing and has lots of friends, you would be proud. It didn’t cross my mind at the time, in his room surrounded by his classmates and their parents. But at home now as the sun goes down and I drink a glass of wine, I cry thinking of how you should of been there, you are supposed to be there to see your son instead of inside an urn on top of my dresser. He misses you. He tells me that he’s sad and he misses you. He sleeps with his two daddy dolls and his daddy bear and tonight with the green bear that used to be yours.
I still can’t listen to most music without crying, it all reminds me of you and I break down fast. I don’t want to finish unpacking, I don’t want to sort thru the only physical things I have left of you. Your cologne, all of that cologne you had for over a decade. What I want to do sometimes is spray it on your shirts and put them in zip lock bags and try to re-create and preserve your scent. I saw a flyer for a local cooking competition and one of the entry categories was salsa. You would have loved to do that. You would love living here. I can’t write anymore. There’s too much and not enough all at once. I love you.
ad astra per aspera 