APART.

I stared at our crumpled sheets.

One hand was wound around my waist whilst the other gripped the pendant he had bought me for our second wedding anniversary, pulling it from side to side, hearing the metal buzz as it moved.

It was the first time I’d mustered the strength to get out of bed in what felt like years. My hair was dirty, but I didn’t care. All I’d done for weeks was cry into my pillows and ignore the world around me.

All I wanted was him. The horrific reality was that he would never walk back through our front door.

I felt the lump in my throat rise and I stripped the pillows, folding them neatly, collecting them in a tidy pile.

I stood at the end of the bed once again, replaying memories. The late night movies we’d watch in bed, talking until the wee hours of the morning about our future and completely off-topic points that came into our heads. The nights we’d sensually indulged in each other’s bodies, deep sleep enveloping us in post-coital bliss.

My vision blurred as the tears came, taking away what I’d seen; bring me back to the present without my husband in it.

I stifled my sobs, clutching the pillow cases to silence my howls. I tried to take in the remainder of their scent that were filled with his, yet I felt that had been all I’d been doing. I’d been lying on his side of the bed for weeks, the only place I felt any kind of comfort at all because I could smell his aftershave.

Now that it had faded, I knew I had to change the sheets; Not only for cleanliness, but for my sanity.

Every minor everyday task now felt like a mountain I had to climb. Changing sheets was by no means a hard jaunt, yet I couldn’t help but feel as though washing them was a kind of closure. It felt as though I was washing away his being.

I didn’t want to accept it.

I wanted to feel as if he’d had to go away with work and I should leave everything just so.  I hadn’t moved anything on his bedside table; his watch stayed off kilter, his half-drunk bottle of water was about three inches away from the coaster I’d always reminded him about using, even though I knew he wouldn’t listen to me, it was still there. The tiniest rise of a smile appeared, as I was reminded of his daily minor rebellion.

My acceptance would make me feel as though I was now okay with all of this. I knew that my thinking was extremely backwards, but I’d never dealt with closure well; if at all.

We were a team. Partners in crime, never one without the other.

Truth be told, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I almost felt like I’d hear him tell me, but I knew I’d be waiting for a voice that would never appear.

I stroked my wedded hand over the cotton pillowcases.

Sleep tight, I thought, knowing that I never would again.

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