The store clerk asks how I'm doing today.
Fine, just fine.The neighbor waves hello and asks about my day.
Good, just good.
My friends call to see how I am feeling.
Great, just great.
They don't realize that today I lost my best friend.
My kindred spirit, the keeper of my secrets, and my unpaid therapist is gone.
I'm not fine.
I'm not good.
I'm not great.
I'm hanging by a thread, processing my grief in waves.
Inside jokes are gone, recounting old memories is gone, and laughing together and crying together is gone.
Who will I call when I need to vent about my trials at work, about my increasingly ludicrous dating life, about the perfect shrimp quiche I baked tonight?
Who will join me in reminiscing about our thin clothes, our fat clothes, our ever increasing gray hair, and our crazy adventures as teenage girls besotted with boys, cars, and makeup?
For 44 years you've been my sidekick, my partner-in-crime, my sounding board. There were ups, there were downs, but there was always reconciliation.
A large piece of me is now gone, ripped from my heart and transformed into a shadow. Our conversations will now be one-sided as I share my stories with only a memory listening.
Rest in peace my best friend and know that you will be forever missed.