12/09/2014 11:52 am ET Updated Feb 08, 2015

You're Absolutely Everywhere

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You're there when I'm curled up in bed, cozy socks on, skimming the Times. You would have leaned over me, brushed your lips over my forehead, and pulled out the DealBook section for yourself to read. Lazy Sundays have not been the same.

You creep into my thoughts when I get the promotion at work; I now have my dream role. I'm on top of the world -- you're the first person I want to call.

Your face emerges as I pass by the train station around your apartment. Remember those dreaded goodbyes when we lived so far away from each other?

You detested tattoos. I have a few now -- figured it would help me convince myself that I no longer cared what you thought of me. Quite the contrary, may I say.

My mind wanders to you as I am ordering a bottle of Cabernet at dinner. What was the name of the one that I liked so much? You would always remember, so I never had to.

I hear your laugh as I peek at the puppies in the window at that shop in Chelsea. "No, absolutely not, we are not getting one. I know they're cute, but no."

I swear you're there as I'm browsing a list of movies to watch -- that was your favorite film. You loved black and white movies, so I did too.

Exploring my new neighborhood, I'm experiencing déjà vu. You took me to that Brazilian place right around the corner; I flash back to that beautiful day.

Winter has arrived, snow begins to fall. We never had a chance to go ice skating in Bryant Park. I frequent it and smile as I imagine the scene of us ice skating together. You would have been amused by my clumsiness.

Who will make you your favorite dish for your birthday, send your favorite cupcakes to the office, knowing you'll end up working late?

They open a new coffee shop on my block; I order a soy latte, extra shot of espresso. You would have ordered a black coffee, added a dash of cinnamon to it, then reminded me how good it was for you.

A guy buys me a Sam Adams at the bar. I flash back to the moment, before the wedding, where we shared one on your back porch. You're not even here, but you've already somehow ruined his chances.

The holidays are fast approaching; will another stocking hang next to yours?

I visit Brooklyn with the girls, you're everywhere. In the small piano bar, at the German biergarten, reading at the café on Bedford. I can feel you everywhere; I have to get out of here.

This would be so much easier if I could just get you out of my mind, push you out of my heart. So many unanswered questions -- too many "what ifs". Was it something that I did?

Your drive to success, your compassion -- who will you share your achievements with? The way you used to smile at me if I were angry or upset, and just let it all pass. That intense look you would give as I told you about my day, as if it were the only thing you cared to hear at that moment. Does your mind ever wander to me? I'll admit it, I miss you. I miss us.

Your laugh. Oh, that laugh. I get chills as I remember the sound of it -- it still ignites my heart. I close my eyes and still see your face. I cannot help but wonder if you still laugh that way, absent of me.

See? You're still everywhere. And yet, we remain apart.