The chair used to sit in the parlor, but when I left you moved it here. Here being diagonal to your bed in the corner. I'm glad you moved it.

I like to sit there when you're sleeping because I get to see you look peaceful. Of course you have nightmares sometimes, but even those are less painful to watch than the mournful expression you keep in your waking hours. Still, I wish I could wake you.

For a while I had the hope that you'd wake up and see me. When you'd toss and turn I'd pray you'd sit up and see me. I could smile and maybe you would too. My hope left last week when you sat up, turned on your bedside lamp, and stared longingly at my chair. You didn't see the tears in my eyes. You just stared and missed me sitting there.

If it carries on like this, your tormented grief, I think you'll be sitting in someone else's empty chair.