Big Hole

There's still such a big hole in me where you aren't.

I miss your presence, your look, your laugh.
I miss someone to (not) talk to, but there anyway.
I miss company.
I miss laughing together.
I miss plans.

I see you every day. In Tammy's work, and Warren's walk, and Hailey's big brown eyes. In every corner of my house, where you never were, but are somehow still there. (Such an add, otherly feeling) I hear you sometimes as I lay drowsing, or as I begin to rouse. (Rousing and drowsing -- where I find Rex.)

Warren makes me laugh, but its a different kind of laughter.

I try not to bother you where you are. You should be free from earthbound problems. You deserve enjoyment and freedom and all that stuff.
Sometimes I just need to talk.

Sometimes I just need to rest my eyes on you, but you are only a picture and a memory. (Well, pictures and memories.)

I don't know how to go on like this.
Not that I have much choice, since the days come and the nights go as they always have.

I miss you.

Numbers -- Always Frustrating

They say that "significant" numbers are a sign that our departed (dead) loved ones are around. The numbers can be anything or any combination -- some meaningful only to the two people involved in the relationship. Some can be more generic, like 11:11. Or same numbers repeated frequently. Or sequences. Or -- probably a couple hundred things I haven't thought of. Or times. Dates.

I work in  numbers, and have for many years, so I think I have a good feel for when there is something odd, unusual, and possibly meaningful about the numbers.

695 is one that recurs frequently some nights. As a total, as change, and once even as the amount of money handed to me (11.95 bill; wanted a five back.) 695 is the prefix for Winchester phone numbers; Winchester is where we last lived together.

More fun are sequential numbers. $12.13 or a total. A few customers later there will be a $13.14 bill, and even a $15.16. This pattern almost always goes up. I've never noticed it going the other way.


For a long time, I've enjoyed these numerical forays. I like the idea that they somehow symbolize your presence. (Maybe.)

But I am beginning to find them frustrating.
Numbers should mean something. Should have meaning. Beyond a presence, that is. They should be today's lottery, or how much my paycheck will be, or how many friends I have, or what time I'll wake up tomorrow. You get the idea.

So, if it is you making number magic -- and you were usually rather good at that -- please try to make the numbers have a magic beyond "hello."

Because I like numbers to have intent.

(on the other hand, don't stop saying hello because I'm being picky. Hello backatcha.)