seasons come, and seasons go, nothing stays the same
i grew up, fell in love, met a girl who took my name
year by year, we made a life, in this sleepy little town
i thought we'd grow old together, Lord, i sure do miss her now
But there's holes in the floor of heaven,
and her tears are pouring down,
that's how i know she's watching,
wishing she could be here now,
and sometimes when i'm lonely,
i remember she can see,
there's holes in the floor of heaven,
and she's, watching over you and me,
Steve Warner - Holes in the Floor of Heaven (edited)
Rick Grimes woke up, with his arm on Lori's side of the bed. For a moment, as he was coming out of a deep sleep, he thought he could feel her next to him.
When his eyes snapped open, the stark reality of him lying in an empty bed hit him. Another day. Another hangover. Another morning of him not eating a bullet the night before.
He sat on his end of the mattress, and put his face in his hands.
Baby, I miss you so much. Every second. I just want to see your face.
He got out of the bed and used the bathroom, then went downstairs to eat breakfast. The trash was full of take out containers, and the moldy smell from the washing machine was a reminder that he hadn't done laundry in over a month. He looked through the fridge, nearly empty but the food that was in there was old. He needs to go shopping. And do the laundry. Some dishes too. And clean the house, and get himself back to normal. But "normal" included his family. Maybe eating a bullet would make sense after all.
After nibbling on a stale bagel and drinking coffee with soured milk and no sugar, he went upstairs to get ready for work.
He shaved, trying to keep his eyes on his reflection, but, just like yesterday and the day before, they wandered over to Lori's sink. Just as she left it. He forced himself to focus shaving. A hot shower didn't help, and when he was back in the bedroom getting into his uniform he looked over to his dresser, at the large white urn with pink flowers on it. She always liked pink flowers. He talked to her as he finished getting dressed, telling her how much he needs her help.
"Saturday's coming, baby. I don't think I can do it. Two years. Two fucking years. I wish I could trade places with you. I was supposed to protect you. I had the dangerous job. It should be me in there." The days of him lying in bed for days and sobbing into her pillow have stopped, unless he's reminded of her, Carl or the baby. He walked up to his dresser, talking directly to the urn, and said "tell me what to do. Please. I need your help. I need you." After swallowing a sob, and before he became a mess again, he kissed his fingers and put them on the urn, saying "I love you, baby."
Rick walked down the hallway and stopped at Carl's room, putting his hand on the door and saying "love you, bud." He moved one door over, to what was to be the baby's room, and did the same routine he did every day. He put his hand on the door, just like he did with Carl's, and said "love you, baby girl."
He left the house and drove down the road on his way to the police department, and was forced to stop at the red light, just two miles away from their home. He was staring, transfixed, at the three white wooden crosses at the side of the road.
