An E-mail to Tom

Dear Tom,

I miss you even though it’s only been a couple of hours since we’ve said goodbye. I’ve probably missed you ever since you found out that you’d be going to Korea for a year.

At the airport I was trying to be strong. I didn’t want your last memory of me to be that of a sniffling mess. When I hugged you that last time I shut my eyes and breathed in your Old Spice scent. Whenever I smell it, I think of you.

It was hard to stand there as you walked through security. A part of me wanted to call out, wait, stop, it’s too soon, you can’t go now. But the other part knew I had to be strong, that breaking down would just make things difficult for you. And so I put a smile on my face and watched as you walked away from me.

Driving home I felt numb, as though I couldn’t fully believe what had just happened. When we got home I walked in the bathroom and it hit me all at once that you weren’t coming back for a long time. The spot where your razor once sat was empty. Your toothbrush no longer rested against mine. I ran my finger along the spot where your wallet would usually sit when we didn’t go anywhere.

I grabbed the shirt that you had worn yesterday and held it to me and there it was, Old Spice. Maybe I’ll always hold the shirt when I really miss you. I don’t know. I suppose that it would be a bit strange but as I stood there, your shirt cradled against me, it gave me a sense of comfort.

You take care of yourself.

We’ll be okay.

I promise.

I love you,
Amber