I got a new phone the other day… you’d find it hilarious that I’ve taken a few steps backwards technologically speaking as it is less sophisticated than the one I most recently had and it is also the very same kind of phone you had when you died over 3 years ago so I like that it looks like yours. I remember so well sitting in your car that day with you when you got a flat tire after picking me up from the airport my last trip home before you died. I was trying so hard to figure out how to use it and you had to keep showing me what I was doing wrong. You’d love to know that I’m still trying to figure it out.
I had to get a new number. I was really hoping to hang on to my old one and keep my Minneapolis area code but it didn’t end up working that way. I know this is silly but after all this time there is still a part of me that thinks, “What if he tries to reach me? My old number won’t work so he’ll have no idea how to get a hold of me if he needs to.” I’m embarrassed to write that as I know you’re gone… but not having been allowed the closure of seeing your body left a tiny piece of my brain completely unconvinced of your death; it left an opening for my mind to cling to a shred of hope that the past 3-1/2 years have just been a terrible dream. Logically I know you won’t ever be calling me. But you know, there is a part of me that mourns the loss of the phone number I had when you were still around to call and text me. As trivial as that may sound… it’s the truth.
I wore one of your old t-shirts to work yesterday and thought of you all day… and I found that penny you left for me when I went to lunch. Thanks for letting me know you’re thinking of me, too.
I love you.