The Hard Part

16.03.07

This is when the sad and the hard part starts John, all over again.

When the friends come to check that you haven't taken the same road; spent a while talking about anything and everything to keep you distracted from your thoughts; brought you food you accept but never eat, offered you drink you never drink in the vain hope that somehow we will be distracted from the thought that runs through our core every hour of every day - you!

It does work, let me tell you, but then your mind wanders, just like when you were here: back to you and all we had, and all we miss and all we can't have again.

As Sinead would say, "I went to the doctor and guess what she told me ?"(not he in this fantastic equal world), she said it was normal that I should miss you and it is only two weeks. And I thought, "what the fuck would she know?" because she is not me, and she hasn't lost you and she cannot even know how sad I feel.

But in a way she did. So all power to the NHS that has supplied us all with life and love and drugs for those that abuse it. I didn't take the scrip, because it never worked for you and it sure as hell won't work for me. If I am a ghost in this house, just let me be that spirit and see how we fare.

I miss you more each day, as any cheesy love song would say. You still don't appear to me and I still have no answers. I am as lost as the day that you left.

Can I have the map now please?