Not quite holding hands

Hi baby,

Feels like years have gone by already and then I realize it’s only been 2 months and 16 days. I catch myself thinking to remember to call you to ask you to pick up some Cheerios on your way home. I go to the store and automatically pick up a newspaper and then put it back. I want to remind you that we have to be in the school for a hanuka party. And then each time, I remember the fact that you’re never coming home and I’m never going to speak to you again and I’m never going to see you again. This word never. I can’t even comprehend what it means. But I have a physical reaction to it, like a punch to the stomach. A wave of nausea. And tears that rise in an instant, uncontrollable to my eyes.

I miss your voice, I miss your silly little-kid laugh, I miss the flirty face you used to make at yourself whenever you stepped in the elevator and looked in the mirror. I miss holding your hand. Whenever we walked somewhere together, you’d always be 5 steps ahead of me, and you’d open your hand behind your back so I could grab it. But you took such big steps, I could hardly ever reach it. Sometimes I just gave up and let you carry on like that, with your hand held out behind your back. Sometimes I had to issue a command – slow down! You thought you were going as slow as humanly possible. So that’s how we’d often just walk around to places, you in front of me with your hand held back for me to grab, just inches out of reach. But when I did catch your hand, it felt great. Your hands were big and strong, exactly what a man's hands should look like. More than anything else in the world Amir, you always made me feel safe. And protected. Especially when you held my hand.

me