Letter fourteen - Day eighteen of your vacation

Dearest J,

My last few letters seem to be an explosion of emotional outburst in words. It seems the busier I get, the more yearning for you come out to play. Everything leads to memory of you.

This morning I lied in bed thinking, the next time I send this sheets to wash, would it wipe out the last traces of you in our room? The smell of you on it was already fast disappearing in week one. The teeshirt you wore the night before is unwashed, it stays on the bed still, for my comfort.

I stared at the little stray hairs you left by the side of the bed, your side of the bed. They screamed to me, "I was here, baby." with a smile. But oh so forlorn, for these hairs won't come no more.

And cleaning is due for this place, again. I won't have to clear your mug and its water stain from your side table, or pick up your socks from the floor...

These demons come, they might never leave so soon. But please don't worry for me, I have plenty of meaningful distraction on consumption. I have enough of you in me to carry on, you have given me that much love in all the time we had, to fuel the journey ahead. This journey for one.

OK, that's really, really, enough emo ammo for the week. I better be up doing SOMETHING...

Am meeting a bride to be at lunch, going to propose some lovely songs for her wedding next month.

The washing up will come, your hairs will go, but I hope you will always be around, somewhere.

Love you x 100000000000000000000000000

B