Number 29

An Elegy: One Year Out

The contradiction of grief is that it's not always there, and yet it is.

As a companion, it's not terribly insistent - it doesn't require constant attention. Like a loyal dog, it's satisfied just by being in the same room with me. But just like that loyal dog, it does require that I acknowledge it on a regular basis. It doesn't sting me the way it did in the beginning, but the dull ache it can leave in the pit of my soul still hurts.

There is so much I miss.

I miss talking about Emma and Grace with her.
I miss her being a mother to Emma and Grace.
I miss bad jokes and worse puns.
I miss "your what hurts" when she didn't quite hear what I said.
I miss making her coffee.
I miss sleeping with her.
I miss her compassion.
I miss her forthrightness.
I miss how she made me a better person.
I miss her singing.
I miss listening to her on the piano.
I miss her encouragement.
I miss making plans with her.
I miss loving her.

I miss her.

I will love you forever, Rebecca.