My Mind's Eye

Sometimes I'd swear Mike is here with me. I keep getting the sensation of his presence...or maybe, my mind and heart are just working overtime to remember. To remember how it felt when he was in the room with me. The sound of his breath, his footsteps...how he looked, the familiar freckles on his forearms, his latest mustache creation, his favorite camo t-shirt. That bright, childlike smile he wore. It's like I don't want to forget that feeling of being next to him, or the way his essence permeated my daily life.

I see him so clearly in my mind's eye. I hear him, smell him...remember what it was like to touch him. To feel his hand on my shoulder. To hear his laughter, his slippers scuffling across the tile floor. And something deeper. Everyone has that unique radiance, maybe it's their soul or something, I'm not sure. We all have it. I just don't want to forget his...or maybe he really is around, somehow, now and then.

I will always remember what it was like to find him, that terrible morning. He was so peaceful...I really did think he was just sleeping, at first. But something was strange. That essence...that energy he had about him, was gone. 

Sometimes I give a start when I imagine I've seen him, walking ahead of me on the sidewalk, or coming out of a store. Maybe someone is his general height and size; maybe they have a familiar haircut, a similar gait, or the same aloha shirt. It's always a small shock of a moment to realize - no, it's not him. He is gone.

It's not just remembering moments or events we shared. How we passed the days together, or how we'd laugh at the same jokes or enjoy the same movies. Lately, it's been about remembering some deeper, essential soulfulness. Just the way he had about him. Who he really was.

I miss it. I miss him. I'm trying not to forget what it was like just to be with him. To be in his presence. How it felt when he was still around. I'm trying to hold onto it.

That is all.