Still Sitting Across From You

I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.

So often you don’t engage.

On the rare occasions that you actually do — you don’t.

If I meet your eyes, they won’t focus.

And the words you say make no sense.

You don’t live in this world anymore.

But I still do.

You found a way not to deal with things.

The world is changing around us.

The people we know are not the same either —

but in a different way.

They are still of this world,

and sometimes make it harder.

I really love French fries.

Your conversations are tangential and disconnected.

Everyone thinks they are doing the right thing in this situation.

None of them are doing the same thing,

so someone is not right.

But there is no handbook for this.

There are no help videos online.

You say that nobody cares.

But I still do.

I can disagree with your choices

and still care for you.

Every time we speak, a little more of you is lost.

If it were a disease, I could accept it more.

But when it is something you have introduced,

it makes it all so much harder.

You had a life that was enviable —

the travel, the locations, the events.

You don’t seem to remember it as good.

But I still do.

As each year passes and a little more of you fades,

I say goodbye to a little more of the old you.

Saying goodbye to the person you knew

while they still sit across from you

is something I never thought I would have to do.

But I still do.