"A year after your death..." (after Czeslaw Milosz)

and she still cries when she thinks about you. She has not given your clothes away to charity and the workshop looks like it did the day you left it. She still misses you more than the rest of us will ever understand. Sometimes she talks like you will come through the door any minute. We don't mention you if we can help it. We don't want to make her cry.