Grief is in two parts.
The first is loss.
The second is the remaking of life.
Death is a thief. It walks into a peaceful situation silent yet knowing and pulls all control out of life without disturbing all that rest on top of it. Like a magician removing a tablecloth in a swift, quick movement.
You were here for all the simple moments.
Those doctor visits when no one knew what was going on.
You held her up and made sure we all were in one piece.
Those short trips to the park with nuggets and orange soda.
I miss you.
We all miss you.
We haven't talked about it much since we knew you wouldn't be back.
It broke us when you left and again when we realized you weren't coming back.
It's so hard to breathe some days.
The further away you get, the easier it becomes to think about you.
We wish you were here.
You were always in charge.
You always knew the right thing to do.
You always knew the right time to do it.
But most of all, you loved us more than life.
Losing you hurt.
It hurt less than the first time, though.
This time we knew what to expect.
It hurts so much more when you know its coming.
The only thing I can think is, "what if?"
"If you were her would that have happened?"
"If you were here would he have done that?"
"If you were here would I be me?"
That's the thing about playing "What If?"
You can't know the answer.
I will never know.
All I can do is wish you were here.
Grief is a hurricane. It comes into a seemingly peaceful situation and makes a mess. The aftermath that it leaves is unrecognizable. You won't be able to put it all back in place. The shattered flower pot can be glued together but will never look the same. One day, in the future you will be whole again. One day you will wake up and it won't be the first thought in your mind. It won't be soon, but it will happen. You will recover from the hurricane. You'll have some cracks, but eventually, you will be you again.