Dear Simone

Dear Simone,

I have to grieve who I thought he was.

He was funny. All of his jokes sounded like pothead logic. He would emphasize the “crisp” in “this would be so good if it was crispy.” He always sounded like he was gagging his voice and mouth full of spit. His skin was goldish bronze. His hair was faded and dark brown. He always said the secret to his impeccable waves was his durag. The next year he grew out his hair. The most beautiful curly hair I have ever seen. I looked at him and he was light. Sun. Light. A bright beaming ray of sunlight.

We weren’t good together. We brought out the worst in each other. I loved him so much, but he was suffocating me.

Yesterday JN and I sat in the car for about 40 minutes when we got home, talking about him. I’m not sure what came over me while we were driving home. I just started talking. I gave her a glimpse of my past. Vulnerability. We haven’t had a conversation like that in a while. I wish I could hold her like when she was a baby. She said that she would pray like he asked her to. And when she would pray, it didn’t work. She would ask God to kill him and when that didn’t work, she asked God to just kill her. When neither happened, she realized praying doesn’t work.

What do you say to that?