Tis the day for practical jokes. Vaseline on the door knob. Fake stories on the radio. Forged headlines in the paper.... Harmless jests with the intent of making someone look foolish to those around them. Jests forgiven at the words "April Fools."
What I would do today to have Kurt come in and announce "April Fools." I would laugh at my grief - even though grief is no laughing matter - if someone could tell me the past months have all been an elaborate hoax. That I have been living a life like the movie "Truman Show" - scripted and created for others pleasure. Everyone else is in on the joke but me.
I'd slap him. I'd yell at him. I'd be madder than I have ever felt with him for what he has put me through. But even in my rage I would hold him close and never again let him go. And our tomorrows would never be like our yesterdays. Because I could show him what I've learned - about the value of a moment as opposed to a day. A second as opposed to an hour.
Alas, the cold hard stone box which contains his ashes tell me that he won't walk into the room. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Its not him and I - two faces looking at each other, but rather the stone vase between those faces. And I am only an April's Fool for believing in the fairy tale notion of happily ever after. There's a reason stories end on that page. Because no one wants to face the hard cold reality on what happens beyond.....
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