When I woke up I thought of you too. I always do, of course, because you're always on my mind and I don't want you to be dead. This morning I tried to keep you with me again. You didn't get up well, in the morning. You snoozed over and over. But you're probably past snoozing now anyway, now that you no longer have a body.

What I thought, this morning, in my warm sunny flannel bed, was the way you liked to hold me. You would say in the evening, lay down with me. Your back would be against the back of the couch, and my back would be against you. Your arms around me. I thought of this, and it did, I'll admit, bring me comfort. I still want your real actual human warm arms; I have no idea how to live without them for the coming 35 years. But today I let the thoughts of you holding me just be the thoughts of holding me, and tried to focus on that. I think I might have held them. And that felt better. Warm. In the warm sunny bed with you, ache in my heart, feeling how you'd close your eyes and lay against me for a long long time.