When your Aunt Alexis* was leaving, I told her I would be okay. I know she worries about me, and I didn’t want her to feel bad about going. Life has to go on.
When I left you, I kissed your forehead and told you I would be okay. I promised you, because I couldn’t bear the thought of you lingering, worried about me. I couldn’t tie you down to earth when you had never had the chance to live.
I’m not living, without you. My body eats and drinks and works and sleeps. I visit with it sometimes. Sometimes I visit with you. Sometimes I feel you in my arms. Sometimes I see you in visions, memories.
I promised you I would be okay. I hate it, because with you I cannot lie.