The First Winter.

Two candles illuminate my dinner for one. Across the table sits your photograph. The one where you can peer directly into your joyful soul. I try to remain upbeat, to put a smile in my heart and only tears come out. A couple of deep, loud sobs are followed by laughter in thinking of you standing in the threshold naked shaking your willy at me. (Sorry Moms!) Some days I really feel like I'm losing it. Moments of deep loss, shortly followed by loud laughter.

They said the holidays would be tough - but I think it's the winter that is the roughest. Where the nights are way longer than the daylight hours. Your absence echos in the house. I thought today of leaving this house - and immediately welled with more heart felt loss.

Now I look at your picture and it feels like a mirror. I know that smirk more than my own. That little dimple on the side of your mouth, facial hair stubble, self pierced ear. And your hands. I really miss your hands. They're not in the picture - but I can envision them as if they were right in front of me. Those gnawed off fingernails - callused and battered from climbing. Constantly in your mouth as you chewed on excess skin. "Who are you to talk?" As I look down at tattered nails. We definitely had that in common.

It was easier packing my ski bag for the upcoming weekend. I think first times are going to always evoke a lot of emotion. Understandable. Picking up the pieces of our lives together and forging ahead to make my own way is the toughest thing I have ever done. But it's a process I must go through to learn and grow. I'll take the highs and lows knowing that eventually it'll get a little easier. But oh, the first winter is tough.