It’s the little things.

It’s not being able to look at my toy lion because I brought her to our last appointment so now she reminds me of you.

It’s wanting to kill myself suddenly when I get in the car and see an old appointment card with your name on it. It’s not being able to throw it away, so I just turn it over so you don’t haunt me anymore.

It’s the ache in my chest that now comes whenever I take my evening medication which you got me on.

It’s sleeping next to the plastic cup you filled with water and gave me one time when I was upset. Then it’s putting it out of sight as it’s too painful to see it all the time, but in a special place no one else in the house can find as I’m afraid somebody might throw it out.

It’s the way you’ve crept into my world even though we only saw each other at the clinic.

It’s not being able to be in the supermarket when a sad song is playing.

It’s crying every time I see my new case worker because you can never be replaced.

It’s the way I used to feel comfort from 9-4:30pm Monday, Wed, Thurs and Friday because I knew you were at the clinic a phone call away, but now all I feel is loneliness because we’re not allowed contact.

It’s not being able to watch travel shows because they remind me how big the world is and how I cannot keep you close.

It’s not shopping for new clothes anymore because I only really dressed up to see you.

It’s not being able to enjoy anything anymore. It’s stopping all my usual activities because I’m too sad.

It’s the way it all comes back in flashes, like a kaleidoscope of memories, but only the good ones. It’s not being able to see any fault in you, which makes it hurt all the more.

It’s not so much what you said, or what you did, but the way you made me feel. It’s not knowing whether I’m ever going to feel that way again.