It’s still here. That dangling thread. A year and a half after the man I loved died of cancer, there is still this raw wound, the empty place, the jagged hole in the ether, spilling out the ends of rusted metal, hoses, tubes, rebar. All the infrastructure that once held us together, our two halves of one particular whole. Still this dangling thread that once ran between us, now slack and frayed.
Here I am, more than a year after that terrible goodbye, still lost in only half a conversation. Jokes without punchlines, references no one understands, a language no one else speaks, no one ever spoke but us… a dead language now. A dead love. An emptiness more empty now than when it started.
When it began, it was a hole filled with grief. So vast and deep it filled the sky. And now… now it is just empty. Just a hole. Just a dangling thread.