She wants to see him at the table...
She wants him to drink his drink with the crushed ice that he insists on having...
She wants to smell that slight hint of Paul Sebastian, the only fragrance he would ever wear...
She wants to look at his beard turning gray with each passing day...
She cant...She wont...She never will again...
The urn sits on the coffee table, with his paperback open to the last page he read...
His favorite blazer over the chair, smudged glasses in the front pocket...
Glasses all over the house, he swore he forget ever putting any of them there...
His inner pain showing itself when he thought, I never saw...
I married him knowing...It never mattered...
He was mine...He still is...Then why did he leave?
Our children just called, and asked what I was waiting for, everyone is here...
I said, your father...He forgot his trench coat, he never left the house without it...
I think I\'ll join him soon...I think he also forgot me...