Hey Cory...
I've been missing you every day. Every day, every day, every day, every day...
(deep breath)
It's so hard this time of year, getting all your brother's stuff for school. I wanna buy you everything...just ALL THE THINGS! Everywhere I look, there you are. Dresses and scarves and boots. I wanna get you a new book bag and two new purses so you don't have to choose. I wanna buy all sorts of makeup and facial cleansers and just all kinds of stupid crap for you that you don't even need. I wanna argue with you about the new guy you're dating who is obviously a total dick that you can't stop pursuing because he reminds you of your father. I want you to tell me that even if that's true, it's your life and your mistakes to make because you are "twenty four years old, for crying out loud, Mom!"
I want to feel my heart break in half when you say you're moving out with a friend because it's time. I want to lose sleep worrying that you'll forget to take your meds or that I'll get a call in the middle of the night from your roommate that you are acting a little strange. I want you to show up and ask me for some money to last until payday because you haven't quite figured out the budget thing yet. I want you to text me all the small things and the big things that make up your day. I want to hear you bitch about Econ and wax poetic about art. I wanna hear your voice. I just wanna hear your voice.
I'm so sorry, Cory. I'm so fucking sorry.
All this, said out loud, bent over her grave. Then I grab her monument around its supposed waist and try to hug it, but it has no give and feels all too reminiscent of the way she felt the last time I touched her.
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