The Pillow

Before my now ex-boyfriend left for Israel, I made him give me a pillow of his. It is a blue bean bag pillow, one he used all the time, that he absolutely loved. And I made him give it to me. I wanted something of his that he loved and used all the time. In fact, before he left, I took just about anything he offered me that he was trying to get rid of. I have two stuffed animals (monkeys), a computer bag that he used all the time, an Israeli army or navy flag (I do not remember which), and a bunch of other random things, including the pillow. I took it all. Why? Because they were his. The last bits I would have of his; the last bit I would have left of him.

However, of all the things that I took from him, the pillow is the one that means the most to me. Maybe that is because it meant so much to him, because he loved it so much. I used to sleep with it all the time. Literally, all the time, for months. And then one night, as I was going to bed, I decided not to. I wanted to, very much so, but I decided that doing so would just make letting him go harder. It was already making it harder. It was a reminder on a daily and nightly basis that he is no longer here. So I put the pillow away.

I placed it on one of my nightstands, right next to my bed. It has sat there ever since. I cannot make myself move it, to put it away. I thought of mailing it to him in Israel, but could not bring myself to do that either. I also thought of bringing it with me when I would go to visit and give it back to him then. But I cannot, and would not, be able to do that either. I cannot let go of that pillow. That pillow will be with me forever, as will the computer bag and stuffed monkeys. I may have to let him go, but I do not have to let those go.