Atlas.
It was the name that passed my lips dozens of times a day: in whispered morning greetings, in playful growls, in laughter at antics, in shouts to come, in invitations for walks or rides, in sighs of gratitude, and in proclamations of joy. How much I long to say that name again. To hear it aloud. To feel it cross my lips again.
I’ve tried whispering it to the air. I’ve tried calling out while driving in the car. But it felt false… I have no genuine reason to call that name aloud anymore. If I speak it to others, it is a lifeless word.
I always loved “The Raven,” but I understand it on a new level now. The depth of grief, the sadness when someone you love is “nameless here for evermore.” It’s oppressive.
Yes, I will know happiness, but there is a shadow that will never be lifted – a scar that will never be erased. Just as there are memories of love that only exist because of my time with him.
Though I say it to the ether, I will say it nonetheless.
I will never stop missing you, Atlas.
Nevermore.
Life Without Atlas 