I’ve been staring at this screen for months…waiting for what I’m supposed to say next and wondering what I can say that will “make it all better”. Or what will make the reader on the other side of this page feel better. And now it’s Christmas. I don’t have anything. I don’t have an eloquent poem about a Christmas in heaven, nor do I have a “Dear John, Merry Christmas” letter to share. I just miss him. I miss hearing him say, “Love you”. I miss the way he hugged me. I miss the way he punched me in the arm as he walked by me. I miss his ...
Am I allowed to be sad?
I hadn’t talked to him that day, that week, or even that month. In fact, I hadn’t seen him in three months when he died. The distance he placed between us and between himself and the rest of our family, I believe, was directly related to his sickness. Although, I didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t know how sick he truly was. About a month and half before he took his life was the last time I heard his voice. I remember trying not to cry too much as I told him “I just want my brother back”. I remember trying to listen more than I spoke, and choosing ...
Our Book
September 12, 2016: I parked the car and stepped out with the book and the flowers in hand. It’s a hot day so the green carnations I’ve bought are starting to wilt. Nevertheless, I start out on to the grass steering clear of the other stones as I make my way to his. I have to catch my breath, like I do every time I come here, as I approach the granite stone etched with his name and a picture of him smiling on my wedding day. The tears start to fall as I wipe the dirt stained water spots off of his picture and my hand comes to rest on his face. More tears ...
