Daisyspeak

The way I miss her.

But she is gone and she is not coming back.

I know that now.

I will never kiss her again. I am never going to wake up beside her again. I am never going to watch her sleeping again.

That perfect moment when she opened her eyes and smiled her slightly goofy smile – a smile that seemed to reveal as much gum as teeth, and a smile that always made me feel as though something inside me was melting – I definitely won’t see that again. There are ten thousand things that we are never going to do together again.

“You’ll meet someone else,’ he teels me, with all the patience that my real father could never quite muster. ‘Give it time. There will be another woman. You’ll get married again. You can have it all. Children and everything.’

He is trying to be kind. He is a good man. Maybe this is what he really thinks.

But I don’t believe a word of it.

I think that you can use up your love. I think you can blow it all on one person. You can love so much, so deeply, that there is nothing left for anyone else."

"You could give it all the time in the world, and I would never find someone to fill the gap that she has left.

Because how do you find a substitute for the love of your life?

And why would you want to?

Rose is never coming home again.

Not to me.

Not to anyone.

And perhaps I could learn to live with it if I could resist this ridiculous urge to phone her. Things would be more bearable if I could remember, really remember, that she’s gone and never forget it.

But I can’t help it.

Once a day I go to call her. I have never actually dialed the number, but I have come pretty close. Do you think I need to look that number up? I don’t even have to remember it with my head. My fingers remember.

And I am afraid that one day I will call her old number and somebody else will answer. Some stranger. Then what will happen? Then what will I do?

It can strike at any time, this urge to call her. If I’m happy or sad or worried, I suddenly get this need to talk to her about it. The way we always did when we were – I nearly said lovers, but it wasthat and much more.

Together. When we were together.
She’s gone and I know she’s gone.
It’s just that sometimes I forget.
That’s all.
So now I know what I must do.
I must eat the cold porridge, and fight this overwhelming urge to reach for the phone."

"There’s something wrong with my heart. It shouldn’t be working like this. IT should be doing something else. Something normal. More like everybody’s else’s heart. "