thinking, that's all
I keep this picture on the table in my bedroom, so I can see it every single day. It's one of my favorite pictures.
I've been catching myself staring at it for a longer time than usual lately. I really miss you. I think he does too, but I'm not sure if he'd ever admit it.
I wonder if things would've been different if the cancer hadn't appeared, or if it had never re-appeared. It's something of a revolving door, really. So many variables.
Sometimes I go back through and look at your pictures. The ones you had of us, of you, of everything. It feels like you're a little closer, but sometimes (especially when I get to the pictures of you towards the end) it feels like this whole process is ripping my heart out like it did the first time.
Right now is one of those latter times.
I have good days and bad ones. More good than bad.