Happy Birthday, Wherever You Are Now

I can’t wait until Thursday when your actual birthday hits. I can’t face that day yet. You’re just gone and I feel it everywhere. I’d do terrible things to have one more night like we used to have - wine dark and sad, music soaking into everything, talking until the apartment went cold, knowing I could be myself with you. Mona, come back. This is killing me.

I remember being in the bath, steam hanging in the air, my head drowning. You came in quietly, closed the door, got in with me. You asked me something vulnerable - something you asked when you needed to know you were loved. I told you the truth. You smiled, poured champagne, held me close. The dark thoughts scattered. I felt wanted. I felt safe.

I keep reading the old texts, clicking through your playlists. I think about all the days we should have had together but didn’t. The senselessness of it still hurts. You were brilliant. You are brilliant. Mona, I know all my words dissolve into nothing anyway, into the infinite, but I want you to hear them. I want you to know how much we loved you. I want you to give me that smile - the one where you believed everything would be okay. Because then I’d believe it too. Then I’d smile back.