Dear John

We never talked through very much what would happen if one of us died.  It was too morbid and sentimental I suppose.

So I don’t know if you ever pictured me maybe, as I am now – sitting in a beautiful cafe on my own (in the Victoria and Albert museum), eating a posh salad and listening to live piano music.  And split in half, between grief that you’re not here and will never see this cafe (or any other) or hear this music (or any other) – and joy because it, and life, are still beautiful, and those of us left alive have to enjoy things, don’t we?

It could be you here, grieving for me.  I wonder if you ever thought it through.

It’s difficult seeing old couples now, John, since we never got to be together in old age.

But – at least we are not both dead.

No amount of wishing will bring you back, so I will just have to live with this pain and turmoil.

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