Kristin Asche

Since my mother’s passing, I have had to live life alone and for myself, struggling on my own two feet. I have lost the one person in my life who raised me, taught me, and took care of me. The position I am in, to activate the life lessons, to have my own place to live, is so new and so raw; I have entered a foreign world that I must take in and push through.

To work through the hardest time of my life and dealing with the wide spectrum of emotion, my attempt is to find peace, to find comfort, and realize acceptance that I will really be okay with this tragedy.

How have I been? Well, not too bad.

Once I realised that love was just muscle memory, I calmed down a bit, I didn’t worry as much. I wasn’t as shocked when I’d wake up in the morning, turn to put my arm around you, and find you weren’t there. It no longer caught me off guard when I’d hold out my hand, waiting for you to take it but you never did.

The only sad part came at night, when I’d empty my pockets, stuffed full of little things and notes that I wanted to show you. Reminding me, of how often in one day, I missed you. Just talking to you, telling you about things, hearing you laugh.

And so I’d slide under the cold covers, fall asleep and dream of you, knowing you wouldn’t be there when I wake up. I’d fall asleep on my stomach, one arm stretched out to your side of the bed.

Muscle memory, is all it was.

— Melodie Davis