House of Frank

by Kay Synclaire

The words squeeze out of my throat like an ocean funneling through a straw.

I weep at your bedside, clinging to you. For as long as I live, Fi, I will never let you go.

My heart aches at the memory of your voice,

I step into the world where you once existed with an assurance that⁠—yes, you are gone, you are no longer here, but oh, how good life felt when you were. You once existed.

Your silence, though expected, is heartbreaking.

It’s still, and will always be, just you and me.

We all need to listen to our bodies when it’s time to rest.”

Own who you are and where you belong in this world. Because you do belong here. And you deserve to look like royalty every day. Because it’s all a gift,

“You pick out the fine linens, Saika. You pick out the extravagant fabric, and you wear them. You buy the expensive tea or the book you’ve always wanted. You eat the pie you’ve always wanted to bake, because after knowing how precious life is, those little moments start to feel quite damn big.”

It’s strange how grief works. I was content, walking these strange cobblestone streets, but then here you are. You lurk everywhere. You’re in my thoughts. You’re in my heart, so I cannot help but to find you everywhere.

And the only absolute in this life is that there will always be Death. And there is no controlling him.

I spoke the truth, and the world didn’t end.

I trust you with my pain. I trust you with my heart. It’s all I can give to you.”

“When I die, please, do not die with me.”

Speak to me. I’ll hear you.”

Your absence actively shapes and colors my world.