I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years.
~Colin Hay

Had I known when I buried you that I’d still miss you twenty-seven years later, I’m not sure I would have survived that April morning when the ground claimed your body as its own. In the quiet of the morning, I listen for the sound of your voice. I search your face in the crowds. I dream of you on nights when the rain lullabies me to sleep. What I’d give to hold you, one more time! But even in the hollow of my grief, I feel the blessing of having loved you. To have missed knowing you would have been the real loss. And so I go on, with the memory of you tucked safely in my pocket. I carry you with me into the soft light of each new day.

And so it goes, life and death. The mystery of it all. The exquisite beauty and pain of it all. I’m just trying to breathe in and out love and to enjoy the journey, hoping and praying that in the end, it leads me back to you.

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