You Will Never Imagine Anything Again

This is the first time I've written since you've been gone. I thought it might be good to continue our discussion. Your death has opened some new place inside of me. I find that I have a sense of the interconnection of all things. If my physical body was split open, there would be the whole of the universe swirling inside of me. I sense the movement of all beings everywhere, like feathers rustling as we all nestle inside this soft machine. The funny thing about it is that, shortly before you died, I spent a fair amount of time actually thinking about the pieces of my heart which are scattered across the world. My old friends and lovers have good days and bad days, like what they had for lunch or hate the traffic while they drive to work in the morning. They are out of my reach. I suspect dying is something like that...you leave, knowing that your loved ones will fill millions of mundane minutes, but you will never know how they passed those ticking seconds. I wonder if you ever thought about this and imagined what some old lover was doing at 4:18 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Doesn't matter, though, of course. It only matters that you will never imagine anything again.