Come back to me and make everything better.
18 years. 18 minutes. 18 weeks. 18 months. 18 days. Its all meaningless. Just before and after the sun set.
Today I’m going back down to ol’ rock bottom.
I remember your beauty radiating out from under that thin sheet, where you barely existed anymore, only love and a Tibetan wooden necklace Andy and Michael gave you. I thought then “Please. Please don’t leave me here.”
But I knew that day that you were somewhere else. There was no space in that frail body for your enormous soul. For the smile which all true smiles seek to emulate.
And now. Now I understand how much harder it was on you.
I see you. I see you in Oscar’s sleepy eyes when he wakes up from a nap with crazy hair and outstretched arms. “Jag älskar dig, mamma,” he whispers.
I hear you, though it is so very quiet. It has been so quiet for so long. I hear you in Lucca’s laugh, the one that immediately makes me smile no matter how I might be feeling.
I smell you. Angel. So fitting. I would never wear it. I indulge rarely, to keep the sense memory fresh in my brain. It’s still there. It hasn’t been too long for that.
Today I will taste that familiar flavor of gingerbreads that you and I created from thin air each December. Magic. The warmth of the ovens, the cold wind outside, you draw near I know. Closer.
If only I could touch your hand one more time. Or see you touch Colton’s cheek and look at him the way only a mormor can. Only you could have.
Today the memories run down my cheeks. Not most days, but today.
Each year I expect the blow to soften. But each year it feels like a child being left with a babysitter for the first time. The raw emotion of loss. Will she ever come back?