I was scrolling through my phone, and I saw your name. The moment of memory, and happy, and sad that kicks you in the gut all at once. But, I won’t delete your number. That would mean I am erasing you, your memory, the last piece I carry with me every day for what feels like forever since you left. I am sure the number belongs to someone who will never know your name, or they probably do and are tired of people calling and asking for you. Your number, your voicemails, your smile in my mind are all that are left. I wouldn’t trade them for the world, even though you are long gone, I get to hold you for just a little bit when I see the name and number, or replay the messages.
The other day I went on to snapchat, and was adding a friend, under ‘people you may want to add’, or some recommendation like that. There was your number, but a screen name that would have never been yours, like Jasminekisses or biancabitches or something hilarious. It killed me for just a second, wanting to add you, and realizing… it would not be you on the other end. It never would. It is painful, but it keeps you close.
I keep the voicemails, because it is all that is left of your sweet voice. I keep your contact because it reminds me of better days when I could reach out with some silly comment, and you would banter right back. I will not delete you. I can’t.