I almost called you today
just so I could hear your voice.
I've tried imagining it in my head all day,
but it's like the sound faded away,
just like your presence here on Earth.

I almost texted you today
just because I wanted to share a moment.
I've tried journaling instead,
but I miss the interaction of your responses,
just like I miss your embrace.

I almost yelled for you today
when I needed help for just a minute.
I've tried learning how to do it by myself,
but it's much harder than I thought,
and I'd rather just not do it at all at that point.

I almost called you today
like I always did when I was heading home.
I've tried listening to podcasts,
but they just make me realize
I'm completely alone now.

I almost texted you today
because, for a brief time, 
I forgot all about your death.
But as I reached for my phone,
I remembered...
And I fell apart all over again,
just like I have every single day
since I watched you stop breathing.