Thinking...
that it has been one of those days. One where my wound was wide open. It seemed as though every corner I turned, a memory of you would hit me. On most days, memories of you make me smile, but days like today are different. I woke up crying, missing you. I cried on the way to work. I cried when I got home. I cried earlier in the rocking chair with a fevery 3rd child in my arms. I was your 3rd child and the fact that you must have felt about me the way I feel about her is unbearable on days like today. Sometimes I imagine myself being you holding me so I can feel close to you. I was a lucky child to have been in your arms.
Thinking...
on days like today I do too much thinking. How have I lived fourteen and a half years without you? If I live to average life expectancy, that will be forty-five more years without you. Forty-five. That's one year longer than you lived. How will I be able to do that when I need you every, single day? Then again, if I die young as you did, how will I prepare my family so they don't have to ache like I do? I just don't know. I ache for you. One that can't even be explained.
Thinking...
about how I just can't understand mothers and daughters not talking. I can't imagine a day going by without talking to my girls. Not a day. When they're older, I know we won't always get along, but I will always make ammends with them. I always want them to know I love them, no matter what choices they make. Love for a child is not conditional. You always found a way to communicate with me. Even if I was being totally bratty and wouldn't talk to you, you'd write me a letter. I still have all of them. They give me comfort on days like today. To see your handwriting and "hear" your voice through your words. My most prized possessions. And you still have ways of communicating with me. Cardinals. Flashes of red when I know you're trying to tell me something.
Thinking...
that tonight I will go to bed aching, as I do many nights. I know you're a part of my life, but on days like today I can't fathom it. I try, but the best thing I can do is go to sleep, forgetting that it may be forty-five more years before you can hold me again - dreaming that one day, we will be together for eternity.
1 comment:
It's funny that you wrote letters to each other because when I lived with you and I couldn't communicate my feelings verbally(my emotions were like a rock in my chest) she would write me a letter and then we would write back and forth until the problem was solved. Unfortunately, I threw mine away a long time ago. Had I known what was to come, I would have kept them.
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