Hopeful

It’s been six days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes since Parker left us. Not that I’m counting or anything.

They say that time heals the soul, but I feel more broken with each passing minute. Every second awake is excruciating. Even sleep doesn’t bring me solace any longer. My nights are plagued with nightmares.

I feel the nightmares as if they are reality. Even more so than the ones where I see the future. His touch, his voice, his love, it all feels.... so real.

Last night, I dreamt that Parker was still alive, that he had just gotten lost on his way back. He came home, busting through the front door covered in blood and dirt. I leaped into his arms, sobbing happy tears that he was actually here. I held him, kissed him, ran my hands through his grimy hair. None of those things mattered because he was in my arms.

When I woke up, it felt like someone had gutted me.

Honestly, every morning feels the same. I wake up, hoping, praying that my reality is in fact, just