Half a year now without you. Half a year you've been gone. This sad half-anniversary really has me thinking about halves. How half of me is gone without you.

    I always said, before I met you, that the healthiest relationships were a product of two whole, complete individuals coming together. That it was rather absurd to search the world looking for some ephemeral "other half." I tried my best to be a "whole" person on my own.

    I think we were both rather "whole" when we came together. We weren't trying to fill some void by being together. We were together because we wanted to be; because, even in our "wholeness" we were better together. But you know what? When we came together, part of me melded seamlessly into you. I think you'd appreciate the analogy that we were like two circles intersecting to form a Venn Diagram, the areas where our circles overlapped becoming the beautiful and inseparable "us." Only, when we were ripped apart, I didn't go back to being a whole circle again. The "us" part of me was torn away, leaving me with a void I can never totally fill. I'm like the sun, partially eclipsed by the moon, but the missing piece of me isn't just hidden, it's gone.

     So yes, today is a day of halves. I am like half a person, and yet I slowly dismantle the material parts of your life and allow the material parts of mine to encroach on your "half" of the space we shared together. I'm sure you would debate whether you ever actually occupied half of our space. I think a tear (or more) has been shed for every object of yours that has been moved or reverently stowed away. Nothing of yours has been given away or discarded. I suppose I feel as though getting rid of any of your things would tear more pieces out of my already wounded circle of self.

     I remember so many Sundays when you and your brothers would laugh and fill each other's glasses so full of water that the water level would actually be above the rim of the glass, failing to overflow only because of the surface tension holding it in place. I used to be like that glass of water. Full till nearly overflowing. Now I am but half a glass. All I can think is that you would want me to be a glass half full rather than half empty.

"FRAGMENT, I am a fragment of us. I am fragment composed
of fragments"

 Quote from Rebecca Lindenberg