It Is Real

Sometimes it doesn’t feel real that you’re gone. Sometimes I know it just can’t be. But it was real when I called the pharmacy to cancel all of your prescriptions. It was real when we poured them all into a ziploc bag for me to take to the police post. It was real when I dropped them in the container there after 8 whole months of silently hanging on to them for no reason other than that turning them in meant you were not here to need them anymore. It was real when we arrived to the funeral home that day and saw you lying there, so cold. It was real when I kissed your forehead and it felt like concrete against my lips. It was real when your closed casket was next to a pile of dirt, and they quickly read one scripture and prayed; we were told in such a cavalier manner that the service was complete; as though it was just that simple to walk away. It is real when you aren’t sitting at the head of the table at meals. It is real when your truck has been sitting in the same spot for a month. It is real when I have to watch videos to remind myself how alive you were. It is real when I have to listen to voicemails in an effort to not forget what your voice sounds like. It is real when I cannot call you because you are not here to answer. It is real when we visit your grave. It is real when I remember watching you take your last breath. Lord help me, it is real.