Missing

I saw you this morning in the supermarket. I was just leaving and for a moment when I glanced up there you were, choosing flowers, too short a moment, but I stopped still anyway to watch her, the woman who moved like you, with her shoulder length blonde hair. I allowed myself to fantasise that it was you, that I would walk over, and you would greet me with that warm smile and burst into a conversation about some little drama the way you always did, then we would of course start laughing; What I wouldn’t give to hear that infectious laugh again. It was the same the week before when I went to your house with my delivery. The windows were dark, and it felt cold and empty. I took the dogs down through the fields behind your home as I often did when you were here, on the way back I found myself looking for you in the bedroom window willing your spirit to appear there. I feel your presence when I’m out walking and a sudden gust of wind swirls around me despite it being a still day and I hear the echoes of your laughter in those winds.

I miss you, my friend; Not that all encompassing grief that your family are feeling, its like a wave that washes over me at times, sometimes so fierce that I feel it will knock me over, other times just a gentle sadness that settles in my heart space and pools in my eyes.