I wish your loss were a 90-day probationary period where I have to prove I'm worthy of your presence by way of perseverance, loyalty and a soulfully connected intuition. After all, the life we have together is playing as a loop in my memories in and my thoughts. I am coming to grips with the idea that your loss is not my fault, but I hold myself guilty for not extending myself to talk longer, stay longer, visit longer, love longer. Although these regrets may not have changed the outcome, at the very least, you would have been selflessly given more time to release and feel anything but alone. You are loved by so many, yet all those "many" people have moved forward. Grief so obviously lasts longer than sympathy. I could care less that people have tapered off of me, but it hurts that they seem to have tapered off of you as well. I hurt for you, I cry for you and I'm in pain for you even though you are at peace now.
I admit that I intentionally play pretend half of my day. While I'm driving I pretend it's like any other day pre-losing you, as I try to sing along to a song or completely surrender to Mia's laughter and existence. I tell myself to keep your floors as clean as possible and am anal about sweeping up my hair strands off the bathroom floor because I know how much you hate my hair everywhere. I make promises to you and assure you that I'm doing the right thing in hopes that you'll come home and tell me how proud you are of me. Even today while at work, I conjured up the conversation I'd have with you about the challenges I may face on a new team or the stressors that come with a new working environment. And I realize that the word "still" is the current bain of my existence. I'm still in denial, I still replay that day in my head at least three times a day, I still cry everyday, I'm still angry with a few folks who have abandoned you and our family, I still haven't accepted that you're gone and I still think you're alive...and just not home.
Three months feels like it's been three years yet it's so fresh as yesterday. Time alternates between crawling and sprinting. This is the time when life is throwing itself in my face and showing me that it continues, yet I want nothing to do with life if it doesn't offer you as a benefit. I despise life and have turned my back on it while I struggle not to turn my back on our family, or Mia or my struggling faith. I wake up with the immediate thought of you, my last words of the day are for you as I tell you good night, and all my in-between is reserved for my tedious sanity and the drive to live for Mia. Mia who has grown and stretched so very quickly. I imagine you marvel at her development and are far from surprised how intelligent, silly and feisty she is- she's a great combo of us both. She's a wondrous Lopez gift and I know you enjoy basking in her love for life and for you. Nino is one of her favorite words and I often wonder if she knows you are gone in terms of unseen and not living here in your home. I'm saddened that she speaks a word she can't visually connect but simultaneously fills me with admiration that she is in fact connected to you, still.
I pray to see you one illusive night when Mia awakens me with her cries and I'm loopy from lack of sleep. I hope to turn around and see you sitting in your chair, in the corner of her room, smiling at me and surround me with such enforced love that I am sure you will never leave. I'm waiting. I will wait my whole life.
I love you with all I have,
Yolie
No comments:
Post a Comment