Widowhood

It can be a certain time of the day or the way the  sunlight streams through the woods.  It's cooking up the other half of the flank steak we so recently shared.  It's not washing your pillow case.  It's placing pillows in a vertical line on your side of the bed. It's looking at your shoes in the mud room.  It's looking at your clothes hanging in your closet - your dup kit, your tooth brush, your comb. It's looking at the last check entry you made . It's facing all the lasts with you  and all the firsts without you. It's solitary meal times and solitary bed times. It's listening and not hearing; it's looking and not seeing. It's the absolute. It's the final. It's the never again. It's widowhood.