You said to me, “Move, pen, move. Write me into a room where it doesn’t have to hurt anymore, where living isn’t such a chore, where I no longer have to wage cancer’s war.”
You told me to try to be good, that you loved me, and that I should, try to make it through, even though it would be without you.
And she told me that I had to be strong, I had to keep carrying on, and that even though it hurts, I can’t show it- that that would make it all worse; that that would make everyone believe that I’m not who I should be.
And they told me that God has a plan that we just cannot understand right now, that somehow heartache and heartbreak are okay, that there are still bright sunny days that make life worth living, and even though this is all true:
I didn’t think it would be this hard to live without you.