Steve, last night I dreamt we were at a work conference. You stood near me, and at some point put your arm around me, and it was nice. You made me feel secure. It was friendly, not more, but I felt so secure next to you, so sure.
We didn't mind anyone seeing us together.
You were younger, like when I met you, the first years--not how you looked after your bad year, your rough times. You were healthy.
We were sorting out where to spend the night and it was clear we'd spend it together, and that felt ok. Very ok. Natural. Not a sexual excitement, but secure and sure.
Was this kicked off by your son's Father's Day post, seeing photos of you? Maybe. Or by yesterday's reveal by my partner (or, "partner"?) which got me thinking about security and reality and love? Maybe. I should have reached out, asked more questions, spent more time. Honestly, you shouldn't have fucking died before we could talk more. I might be kind of mad about that, at both of us.
Is it weird that I miss you? The imagined can be better than the real, I guess.
