four years and I still miss her. I wonder about
her so often. I read for her, yet I
do not breathe for her. I’ve
accepted that she’s gone. I
believe she’s in a
glorious place. I’m whispering
why and why
and why and sometimes
I’m okay without knowing. The only
certainty is how much I’ll never know. I’m afraid
of not doing enough.
It’s a crushing realization to
be so aware
of my own flaws. The more
loss I unfortunately
feel as
time falls
faster and faster. Her face is
fading within my memory. What did her
laugh sound like? Did I know her
enough? The worst
part is the emptiness.
This scene comes clearly to mind,
if you’ve read “Holes,” when Stanley was
at Camp Green Lake. (Camp Green Lake was
a desert). He attempts to drive, and much like my
dreams when I am driving heedlessly and I cannot stop, he speeds and
speeds a truck full of water in the dry desert. He drives
the truck into a hole. He runs. and each time he
takes a step, his feet bringing up puffs of dry dirt,
his canteen reminds him, banging against him, empty,
empty, empty. This is life. We’re
in the desert and each step reminds us.
empty. empty. empty.