Tonight there was this meteor shower that we all went out into the backyard to try to get a glimpse of. I didn't actually end up seeing anything, but everyone else says they did, so maybe I just wasn't looking at the right spots in the sky. This experience to me wasn't that great because today has already been a not-so-great day in terms of dealing with you not being here. All I could think about while I was looking to see if I could spot one of these things shooting across the sky was that even though these meteors are so far away, way up in the earth's atmosphere, and totally out of reach, at least they are within sight. I can see them, and know they're there, even though they aren't tangible. But with you, it's not like that. You're further away than the meteors are. I can't see you fly across the sky, or know that you're caught in the atmosphere. I hate knowing that you're so far away that even a telescope wouldn't show me where you've landed.
You've seemed so far away from me today. I don't like the feeling of distance between us. Sometimes I can handle you not being home with me, because I can trick myself into thinking that you're just out running errands or something like that, but when I start to feel like you're actually gone, and I start thinking about how far away from me you actually are, that's something that I just can't handle.
I miss you tonight, and I hope you have a better view of the meteor shower from where you are than I did from where I was. I love you so much, sweetheart.