Death-i-versary part 3
I never thought about losing him
There’s an alarm on my phone for the day of Randy’s death, at 3 in the afternoon. I don’t need it, of course, because I feel a sad heaviness for the week leading up to that day. But I am notorious for not knowing what day of the month it is—I can’t remember how many birthdays I’ve almost missed because while I know the birthday is on the 17th, I can’t be relied upon to know that TODAY is the 17th.
So the alarm went off and I didn’t mark it as done, so it just faded away. Later when I picked up my phone and pressed the Home button (yes, it’s that old), the alarm flashed across the screen looking like a text, and it said Randy. For just a split second, my heart leapt.
There are so many reminders that he’s gone—notice I’ve stopped saying dead because it feels like a bullet to the chest—so many reminders and I still can’t convince my stupid heart that he’s never coming back.