It’s been over 3 years since S passed. Not quite 3 years since his dad gave me a portable hard drive with my old mac’s dashed out brains stored inside. I haven’t opened it except to peek and see what is there. Until now.

I’ve spent the last 3 nights watching secret silent movies that weren’t silent when they were filmed. Sound profiles are damaged I guess. I’ve been trying to figure out how to repair them, but I can’t ask for help because they are just about the most private things I have ever owned on this earth.

I see his face, I see him smiling at me, I see us loving each other, but I’m greedy to hear his voice. The way I feel right now, it’s a good thing I waited this long. It would have ripped me asunder to watch them before now.

Funny thing is as much as they turn me on, they kind of make me want to never have sex again. It was something special, what we had. You’ll have to take my word for it. Watching these movies, it’s obvious. The degree of comfort we had, and the level of debauchery we soared into are a testament to how in tune we were.

Over half the footage is us talking to each other because we forgot the camera was on.  That’s why I feel a little sick about the sound being gone. I want to hear his voice bantering with me. It’s been three years, and on the surface I’m basically fine when I’m walking around every day. I can tell people my husband passed away without crying and mostly feeling awkward that it makes them feel awkward.

But right now, all I can think is I lost him and I want him back. I don’t care about all the bullshit, and the pain, the drama or the crap. I’d take him back just the way he was when he chose to take his life without hesitation. And I’d call him up and tell him I love him and bawl my fucking eyes out to beg him to come and see his boy and me and even if he spewed bile at me I’d be grateful just to hear the sound of his voice.

Just typing that out my heart feels like it want’s to leap out of my chest and go find him. If he’s out there somewhere, I hope he can feel this outpouring of sorrow. I hope it comforts him to know how much I ache when I give myself space to remember him. Genuinely. I would offer up just about anything to give him some comfort.