I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.
Maybe you’ve been hovering nearby, on some invisible plane… maybe I’ve felt you standing next to me in that secret garden.
No matter. I can’t hold you there. I can’t put my arms around you and hug you to me. I can’t hear you, smell your hair, see your smile.
I miss you.
Sometimes the weight of losing you presses down on me and I find myself reaching for the sound of your voice, combing my memory for just a touch of the sound of you reading to me.
It never occurred to me that you could ever be gone. You’ve always been. How could you not “be?” In some part of my head (or maybe it’s my heart) it makes no sense at all.
I was not always the best friend to you. There were times I didn’t call or write when you needed me to… busy with life and things… but you never held it against me. You always forgave my distance. And always, always you loved me.
And always, always I loved you.
I get angry.
You’re not here. It pisses me off.
I want you back in the world. I want to call you,
hear your voice again,
tell you again how very much I love you.
Grief can be so wicked. Creeping up unexpectedly, knocking the breath out of me.
feet shuffling swiftly to right my frame,
turning my ankle anyway
spending the rest of the day with a full, throbbing pain coursing through my skin.
But I am learning… slowly… to embrace this grief, to allow it to flow over me, and to breathe through it.
I miss you.
I love you.