As I noted last week, I’m going to write letters on Sundays in the absence of guest posts. Here’s today’s:

Ian,

This week has been easier. It makes me sad to say it, but I am getting used to this. I still hate it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s becoming normal. Thursday was the first day since you died that I hadn’t cried. That was 73 days. Now we’re at 76. And I have cried the last two days, so maybe that was a blip.

I really don’t know. I’m writing this letter at 12:30 Sunday morning. When I would have been at your house, singing myself hoarse, drinking, laughing at you rapping, watching a movie, listening to music, any of those things. We’d be active and happy and having fun. Unless it was one of those talk about things nights where we’d turn on music and spill our guts to each other. Maybe cry, maybe hold each other. Regardless, were you still alive, I wouldn’t be lying in my bed, in my quiet house, with my cat on my legs, not having seen a living soul today. I should be singing with you, damnit.

But despite how sad I am right now, how much I miss you, this week WAS easier. A few of the days, I was actually pretty ok, which I haven’t yet been able to say. I started eating a little more. I kind of sleep more.

Your brother in law invited me to play on the softball team you were on with him. I’d never played softball in my life. I was SO nervous. He was totally sweet and reassured me that I’d be fine. I was. I actually hit the ball a couple times. Three, actually. Every at-bat. One pop foul and two pop flies that were caught. For my first time ever swinging a bat at a moving target, I think I did ok. I wish you’d been there to see it. I think you would have been pleased.

I miss you like crazy. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. But it IS getting easier to deal with. I just wish I didn’t have to. You know… Even when you were alive, and we’d take one of our crazy hiatuses (hiati?), my life sucked without you in it. Sure, every one of them was a good idea, was the thing to do at the time. But I hated them. I think you knew that. After our last one, you seemed surprised when I said that, though. So maybe you didn’t. You should have. I thought I made it very clear that my life was far better with you in it. Yeah, you made it more difficult, too. But the sum was net positive. By a lot.

I hope that if you still exist somewhere, wherever you are, you understand now. I hope that you’re happy and healthy. I hope you’ll be there to greet me whenever I get there.

I miss you, you asshole.

-Iris

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