Three weeks after we had become undone I saw a picture of you somewhere online and I burst into tears. It took a month of missing you to muster the courage to replay all your voicemails. I counted each day in poems. Slowly loosening my grip. Each morning I woke up only to be gutted by the truth of us. I told myself that one day you wouldn’t be the thought I always tried not to think. It happened slowly this way. Stacking the minutes and weeks and urges one over the other. Until after a long long time, I stumbled into an image of your beautiful face again. This time I was not disarmed or wind blown. Instead, I thought about how fortunate I had been to love and be loved by you.