Kramer’s Italian Bistro

Shreds of paper overstuffed into a David’s Supermarket bag-somehow made their way into peculiar places lately. One piece was wedged between one of my Pottery Barn pillows and an awe inspiring novel that I had reread at least 6 times in the last month for motivation and heartwarming sentiments.

I missed the bed I had shared with my late husband. His side untouched and richly submerged in Creed cologne. I refused to wash the scent out. So the sheets remained untouched despite their need to be laundered. I rose up so often in the middle of night that it became the norm. Time and time again I found myself reaching out for his muscular fit body, he had been my protector. I felt safe once. I longed for his rugged hands to hold me once more. I begged and wept into tear stained sheets til dusk more often times than not. I would almost suffocate taking in remnants of his leftover intoxicating aroma. Sadly, I woke up disappointed every single day, another reminder of his absence. He was in fact gone and would always be, at least in the physical form.

I’m not sure how our scattered memories waltzed their way into our bed room. Alone. But the yellow fragmented lined pieces of our story didn’t discriminate. They landed within the breezeways of fate. And meandered into cracks of splendor through out our walls and beyond. If only they could talk. If only. They would express a myriad of almost toxic doses of love, magic and euphoria. Endless nights of cognac drops of heaven and sweaty palms. Deep thoughts expressed through laced fingers and breathless moments. Moon light seeping through blue velvet. Our shadows embraced in seductive poses on a blank canvas. They would forever remain tucked away deep inside my broken heart. And life somehow would have to go on without him. Even when I didn’t feel like living anymore. He would whisper into my ear, that I was not alone, and that Jackson needed me. Our son.

I picked up a dusty gold framed 8 x10 off of our dresser. All of us so happy. We were wearing crisp white button down shirts and matching Dark washed denim. Our annual fall photo. This has been the best one yet. Kramer has just gotten a promotion and our son Jackson had just entered into kindergarten. I was expecting and revealing a small bump of about 4 months. To say we were ecstatic was an understatement. We had discussed adding on to our family a multitude of times. And had finally made that dream come a reality. I had never seen Kramer happier.

I brought the photo to my chest and could feel the warmth of a tear drop work it’s way down to my freshly red painted lips. I pressed them together and wiped my eye, careful to not smudge my mascara. I had to go. I had to leave our haven behind for a while. I had a trip planned over seas to see our son and our new grand baby. And Alexa, our daughter had planned to be there as well. I couldn’t wait to see all of them.

It was knowing that my little family needed me that kept me going strong and the presence of Kramer was all around us. In all facets of our lives. He was always sneaking up at the most inconspicuous places and reminding me all too often that he was a spirit inside of us all. And that’s what inspired me day after day to go on. And it was also the reason I opened a restaurant in his name. It had been a dream of ours and I used our savings to finally bring it into fruition. Our little Italian bistro tucked inside a strip of high end boutiques in the coveted down town of our ever expanding city. Our restaurant was on trend and had been voted best bistro every year since it’s grand opening.

Our life together left a legacy behind and I planned to keep it going. One piece of yellow at a time. Until there was no more left of me or us. One day we would meet again in another life. But until that day Kramer would live on through out so many of our lives.