It's weird. I guess this is what empty nest syndrome feels like. His room is clean, the bathroom is clean... There's just boxes everywhere. Almost like he could move back in. Waking up won't be any different tomorrow... His car will be gone, I'll chuckle about him not having taken his bike... But when I get back from work, there won't be a "Honey I'm home!" or "What do you want to make me for dinner that isn't rice or ground beef? OR rice AND ground beef." I won't hear a really contrived story about how he asked out Jennifer Love Huett girl, ok, he just touched her boobs, no, ok, he asked her to a movie, well sort of, she actually said she was going to a movie and he said she should go with him, wait no, he said "uh-huh" when she said she was going to a movie. We won't spend 2 hours playing Forza 30 minutes after we've both said "Welp, I really got to go to bed." and I won't lecture him about leaving a damn gun out unholstered. He won't do that ridiculous STUPID laugh about his suppressor.

Well, he won't do those things HERE anyway.

If he had been here for just ONE more year, we'd be going skiing together AND have a whole summer and spring to look really gay together on our bikes.

It's the same feeling I got when my Jeep drove away for the last time... Bunch of memories, some fond, some pacing in the yard yelling at dad... All kind of just, going away. I'll forget most of them because of the crystal meth I'll have to start doing to cope, but they'll still be there somewhere... I'll hear a familiar phrase and try like hell to remember what movie it's from... Not realizing it's from the short-lived sitcom that aired that fall back in 2007 but was canceled when the caterer left.

I've actually got a lump in my throat. This is the first time I've felt alone in a long time. Good luck out there, I hope there were some valuable lessons here somewhere for you. Oh, and see you in a week.