I want you to feel free to go, but my heart is still shattering. I cry into the too fast-moving afternoon sunlight. I cry into the painted evening sky outlining the East mountain ridge.

The perfectly layered blues, purples, and pinks are gentle and accepting of this grief. These colors feel right; they are soft and enveloping.

Oh, what will I do without you, my mountain and unshakable force of a man? You say you think I need you to go. You say I must be pushed out of this warm nest. You’re probably right: you always are.

If I can’t see you, will you still be there? Or will you just be a memory for me- a file box to sort through to try to feel you? Will your scent fade? Will you forget me- whenever you get to where you’re going? Our time together was so short.

You surround me now: everything I love and use every day has been touched by you. I don’t have to be brave or fearful or uncomfortable because you’re here now. I cry for what is to come. 

I am trying so hard to be strong. I don’t want you to sense how it hurts me to see you go.