I’ve been working on singing your song. I want to record it. I want to record a couple of things. I’ve been in voice lessons more than the past year. I’ve been singing and thinking about you.
And I was trying to sing your song today, and I finally cried. And I remember singing it at your funeral, and I remember wishing, “This is how my voice should always sound.” It was just perfect. It was perfect, and it was for you.
And for the longest time, I couldn’t cry. And for the longest time I couldn’t cry about you. And then today, and it feels almost out of nowhere. Like it’s a full body memory, and I realized I still miss you. I’ve never stopped missing you.
I watched My Girl last night, and I remembered–it’s never the death in the movies that gets me. It’s always what happens to the characters afterwards. And when she leans over and asks Thomas J if he wants to climb a tree, that’s when I lost it. I should be doing that with you.
And then–your sister is 30 weeks, kicking in my stomach. And I love her more than I know how to say. And I realize, if you were here, I don’t know that she would be. And I realize the impossibility of trying to choose.
You were my miracle, my beautiful daydream. You were sunshine and roses and proof of life. She is reality, and love inside fear. And I hold onto each moment with terrified joy.
And I think of that movie again, even though it sounds silly; that British comedy about traveling through time. And I remember the moment when the main character had to say goodbye to his father, because he had died before they had their third child. And there are always going to be limits to time.
I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to say goodbye to you. I’m only now realizing everything we’ve lost. But I think you’re starting to live on a second timeline in my world; one where I can visit, but I’ll never get to stay. And that brings with it it’s own kind of pain.
I’m sitting in the parking lot at the specialist’s office in the next town over. There have been some troubling results off and on about my liver. I’m trying so hard to take care of myself and your sister. I love you both so much. I’m trying to love me.
I’m sitting in the parking lot, and remembering–the last time I was here, I was also crying. I think I’m leaving tears all over the county. And all of it’s okay. I’m trying to be okay.
I love you. You will always be my rose.