When you lose someone you love there are waves; the "good" and the "bad" flow in and out of each other.
Gratitude and regret and memories and moments not quite as clear as you'd want them to be.
You spend so much time together, eventually the time blends together.
The smells and the sounds that were once a daily occurrence are now far and in between reminders of how things used to be and the spaces we used to occupy with the people we used to know as well as ourselves.
Life and death feel like separate things but I know the line is thinner than most people realize; the distance is our own perception.
So as often as I can, despite not seeing, I try to feel them as deeply as I can, even when it's hard.
Even when the thought of a smile simultaneously makes you want to beam and bawl.
When the memory of laughter echoes as close as the thoughts in our own minds.
It's hard missing someone when you feel like they're no longer around, and it's hard to remember they're still there, just in a different capacity.
We tiptoe around loss when all we want to do is link arms and trudge through its depths, navigate the twists and turns knowing we're learning this together.
Let us gather the broken pieces and try to reassemble the fragments into something they'd be proud of.
Let us lean into the quiet of the night in hopes we'll catch a whisper of familiar voices in the wind.
"Let us lean into the quiet of the night in hopes we'll catch a whisper of familiar voices in the wind. "
Reminding me to listen, to feel, to sense. Cause I can't tip toe forever.