The sun jars me awake as I roll over to your side of the bed. No, not yours, anymore. I groan into the empty silence of my apartment as I struggle out of the covers. How I wish I could stay here, in the bed we once shared, and dream of how it used to be. My hand resting against the heat of your skin, your fingers rolling through my hair as the sun shines patterns around us in the morning light.

Another round of my alarm going off forced me from whatever dream I was so desperately trying to hold onto. I stumble to the bathroom, fumble with my toothbrush, and run a brush through my brittle hair. I pause, because your cologne is still on the counter. I won’t use it. Hell, I can’t get myself to touch it; but maybe if it stays there, one day you’ll come back to get it.

Threading my blouse into the waist of my skirt, I wander into the kitchen. I don’t know what I’m looking for, I don’t eat much anymore. I twist and turn around my cupboards, procrastinating anything that isn’t staying here and thinking about you all day.

I get myself in shoes and out the door, but stop when I see your sneakers by the last step to the garage. It’s been a year, but the garage would feel wrong if I moved them. Empty, even emptier than everything else feels. I give them one more glance, then force myself forward. I’m always forcing myself forward these days.

I’m right there, the exit on the highway to my office, but lets be honest I knew I couldn’t make it there today. Instead I drive a mile farther and take the second exit down, the one that leads to you.

I pull into the gravel parking lot and shuffle through loose paper and books in the backseat to find my scarf, the one you gave me on our first date when I was cold. Maybe it was perfect then, and I took it for granted. Now I’m cold all the time, and you’re not there anymore.

I wander aimlessly along the studded pathway, my feet brushing past dead flowers and broken hearts. I brush my hand along the tips of the leaves that hang over head and remember autumn with you, the red an immense contrast to the green of your eyes and we walked through the leaves of everything we were trying to leave behind.

I see you, or at least what’s suppose to be you, and pause. My thoughts were gone, and all there was in the world was me and you, even if that’s gone too. I reach into my pocket and pull out the necklace you gave me the day you died. I can’t bear to wear that day on my neck, but it still means something. I wrap it in the scarf that still smells like you and place it on the ground next to shriveled roses.

I lay down on the dirt and place my head in the grass. It smells sweet, and I breath it in deeply. The tears drip from my eyes, but I think at least the grass can wipe my tears even if you can’t.

I stay there, because there is no where I’d rather be than next to you. Forever.