Her chair is empty. I sit in my chair and just stare at where she used to sit.
Absence. That’s what hurts the most. Her suffering is over. Many tears have been shed.

Will I see her again in the next life? Is there really a life after death. I believe there is. How long before I see her again. Talk to her. Does she know how we are doing in her absence?

These are the questions I ask myself everyday. Two months is not a very long time. It feels like it’s been two years.

Going about life in a normal way is doable. But it always comes back to her absence. She is gone. Seeing her, talking to her, listening to her laugh. Finishing the crossword puzzle for her. The quiet of our house is sometimes too much to bear. The silence.
Time they say heals all wounds. I fear my wound is to big to heal.

Absence makes my heart want to be with her. But I cannot go just now. My father grieves as I do, worse.

When will I see you again? I ask. Will I grow used to your absence in my life? Do I even want to get used to it?