Right now I cannot imagine a time when I will not be as close to you as I am now, but that time will come. Life is relatively long and I have lived too much of it to think in terms of forever. This is a time that I will move on from. One day it will be long gone. If you cut the trunk of me there will be this time, with its particular colour like a stain. If you fell me you will be there. Immovable. Unshakable.
But on a day to day it will seem like you were never there.
I mourn now, in advance, because I believe I will not be able to bare the mourning period. But we bare up. I do, at least, and it seems to me that you have moved on unscathed, finding me in the moment of our meeting like a fond memory.