This was your chair.

The Sun found itself spilling into the kitchen where we all gathered. The usual place where we'd all be. But this house was alien to me - somewhat of a cottage. 

I remember the glare of the sun bouncing off the grass. Birds outside. A nice breeze. 

There you sat across the table. Speaking to me. About one of your many stories. 

For that moment, I understood everything. Yet, as i stood there listening, I couldn't believe you were actually there. You lost some weight. Looked healthier. I remember your voice. Distinctively. Your face. The way you said certain things. 

I wanted to approach you. I crossed the room from where I was standing into the kitchen. As I entered through the door, my glimpse caught an empty chair. Where you initially sat on. 

I saw myself from the outside. Weeping and breaking down over that chair. To the amazement of the other guests in the house, they could not understand. 

I spent a good two minutes over that chair. Weeping, crying, frantically breaking down.
I did wake up with a tear. How powerful these dreams have become. 

My sorrow perhaps was never really channeled properly. I never really did properly say goodbye as I was away.

In all ways and words uncomprehending, thank you for visiting.