All Your Firsts Without Me

by L.M. Terry

Leaning against the coffee maker is a letter with my name on it. It’s written in my husband’s handwriting. My heart thumps in my ears as I break out in a cold sweat. I grab it and hold it to my nose, hoping I can smell him on the paper. Dropping to the floor, I rip open the seal. Good morning, little diamond, You didn’t think I would leave you with nothing did you? So, here is what you are going to do on your first morning without me. First off, finish making the coffee. Put extra sugar in it. I have a confession to make. You know how you complained that my coffee was always better than yours, no matter how hard you tried to do it just like I did. Well, I added a spoonful of sugar when you weren’t looking. Sorry, not sorry. Hey, you loved it, but now you know… so don’t forget… one extra spoonful of sugar… every day. Okay, get busy on the coffee. When it’s done, continue reading. I laugh sadly and pick myself up off the floor. I make the coffee and add one extra spoonful like he said. I pick up the letter and continue to read. Take a nice long drink. Good, isn’t it? Lesson number one. My death did not take the goodness out of coffee. Don’t forget that. Anyhow, let’s move on. Open the door and take a step outside. I grab my cup and head out onto the front patio. It’s still dark outside, the sun still hiding its light and warmth from me. Have a seat, and let’s wait for the sun to rise. I hope you were able to sleep. Jeff told me he would take care of you the first n...