June 2, 2012.
I have to agree with all religious people: believing in an after life is most comforting!
I wish that it were numbing the pain too. Even with that belief, dealing with loss is the toughest thing I have ever experienced.
All I think about is that I will never see you again.
At your memorial, I chose the poem with the refrain, "let me go" to be printed and distributed. I had nothing else. No, I don't want to let you go. I want to talk about you to anyone who will listen. The trouble is that if I start talking, I can't stop.
Nothing I can do will bring you back.
Nothing anyone can do.
Your passing is a tsunami of uncontrolled destruction.
I feel waves and waves of debris floating ashore, when I least expect.
I'm remembering last July 4th weekend, the last time I saw you: Mom, can we have the wedding here at the Lake? Can we have the seed of the Siberian poppies you're growing? Can we take a cutting of the Cecil B. rose? I will convert the garage, and add a sunroom with a lap pool, so..."
You were young, full of hope, with a generous heart.
I cannot let you go.