I keep looking at the blue clear sky and think that my friend is missing this. When we die does another day in the life of the living matter? Do we really want to return?
When someone dies, the living are left with all the questions and the suppose to-s.
We were supposed to have girl vacations together in Mexico. We were supposed to have a farm together so I could grow you fresh organic produce, take care of you and help you get better. We were supposed to get old together forever laughing about what ever in the hell we wanted to laugh about. We were supposed to travel together in search of the perfect beach. So many suppose to-s...
But the illness took that all away from us, didn't it? It robbed us of all our future plans and dreams. It took your laughter and your smile and your quirkiness that I appreciated so much.
I feel frayed, like the ends of the carpet that have come undone. I'm still here, though, and as I experience something new and wonderful I will forever be reminded of how much you would have loved it, too.
Every time I go to the beach or feel a nice clear humid-free day, I will be reminded of the joy you found in those things. When it rains too much, I'll be thinking how much you didn't like the cloudy humid weather, and I'll laugh just because I'm thinking of you.
So many things...
I'll always remember how much you loved the sun, your cats and walks in the woods. You were so giving and had a huge gigantic heart. You were an advocate for the underdog and had no tolerance for the unjust. You saw the importance of Earth and had a true appreciation for nature.
You let me know while you were still alive that everyday is a gift. At that point, you had seen death, and we all thought you were in the clear. We allowed ourselves to hope and dream and laugh and share and remember.
I cried when we last said our good-byes, not because I even fathomed that the illness would get you, but because I wished the distance between us wasn't so far away. I was SURE that we would see each other again.
Now, I'm not so sure of anything as my fabric frays and I allow myself to mourn the future we won't share together in this world.
Am I selfish to want you back? Which returns me to the question that when we die, do we wish for another day?
Of course, we will all know someday.