I don’t know, how I don’t know how it got to be a thousand days since you’ve died.
A thousand four days. How?
I don’t know, I don’t know how that happened.
But I know that I’ve missed you every fucking day. And I just… it’s only and already two years and nine months tomorrow and I just keep talking to you, I just keep talking to you. I keep talking to you because I don’t know how else to, not.
We always talked. About everything. We did that really well, talking. Sometimes not so nice. But we always talked.
So now what, do I just ask questions at the air? Do I just keep doing what I’ve been doing and uh, keep talking to you this way, writing, and…
I found pictures of you.
Well, Brian found them in the attic. I’ve never seen these pictures of you before. There’s a really hot one.
I miss you.
Every goddamn day.
Love you more.
The Salty Widow 