Remnants

It's still there.

My friend pointed it out the other day, and now I notice it every time I walk outside.

Last night I couldn't bring myself to park beside it, leaving an empty space between the abandoned SUV that Justin used to drive and my Acura.

Today the reality was heightened as I walked past his SUV into my apartment building, having just finished practicing the hymn a friend and I are leading for the Darden memorial service.

Grief comes and goes in pulses. The timing of Justin's death makes it all that much more difficult to deal with. Many of my friends are still away on holidays, so it's not unusual that he's gone. But every time I walk past that SUV, I'm reminded that I won't be able to call him up when I have extra pancakes, that he won't randomly stop by to say hi if I haven't talked to him in a few days, that I won't see him behind the grill for a Sunday afternoon BBQ.

He may be gone, but he is not forgotten.