Today, Yesterday, or the Day Before

would have been one month since you’re gone. 

I have no way of knowing when now.  

Did you think it was better this way?

No lingering at the door, no burdensome goodbyes, perhaps a thud, an almost silent gasp to acknowledge death’s presence?

How about me, do I think it’s better this way? I saw myself watching no life creeping steadily at your father’s bed. …