And the vapor from our breath seems to freeze in a question mark

The thought hits me sometimes - He should be here. She should be here.

It seems to follow me like a skillful shadow, so cold and empty, keeping out of sight most of the time, until I'm sitting in the recording studio, listening to the engineer play a track back that I wrote about them being gone. Why aren't they here in the studio, too? They should be here...

It's a beautiful fall day, and I walk across the street to the guitar shop. All of a sudden, I notice the blue car that looks like his - why isn't he inside selling guitars and showing off shred guitar?

The house lights go down, and the orchestra tunes up - the first chair violin walks onstage - my god, she's got the same hair. That so could be her.

I had a student by today who had to skip last week's class due to a death in the family. Barely standing, they showed up to the lesson. It was their 15 year old cousin and niece this time.

Why aren't they here?

I think it was the facebook post that I saw today. "It's so and so's birthday today. We miss you, buddy."

In honor of them...