She is different now that Kevin’s gone and I miss her as I miss him.
She shakes as she sits; her legs are in constant movement and her glass in constant need of a refill.
She sips the pink poison to numb the pain
When asked how she is she says “I’m here”
But I disagree
I thought that I would never see her again when she lay across his tombstone, resisting the pulls to get her off
But I still get a glimpse of her sometimes. She comes out with a laugh or when she’s looking at a baby but most of the time I just see her grief she wears it like a jacket draped over her shoulders weighing her down.
I can’t wait for it to be warm out again. After that horrific August day left us, it’s been bitter for three years.