Four Years

Four years since you moved on to what exists beyond my reality. You visit me in my dreams, sometimes with meaning and other times only tormenting the tattered strings of my heart. The light of your smile, -our smile-, warming the corners of my mind. The combined look of awe and disapproval glistening from your eyes, our eyes; wrapping me in the familiarity of our interactions. Your presence engulfs my senses, overwhelms my ability to subdue the grief at my core. Each visit is much too brief, leaving my cheeks damp with tears that have soaked into my pillow through closed eyelids. Waking me in a cold sweat, eating away at the relief your presence initially presented.

Four years that I’ve lived in a house you’ve never stepped into. No matter how much I change the walls, change the colors, change what fills the rooms, it will always be missing pieces of home. There are no shared dinners with you by my side, no shared tears through the troubles, no shared laughter over joys past. I bake your bread, simmer your soups, and light your candles. But still, the pieces that reassure you, “I’m alright”, will always be missing. You’ve never gotten to witness the growth that’s sprouted. The house that has provided such peace and space, calmed the crashing waves within and soothed my ever running feet. The house that has helped me step into comfort and belonging; step back from comparisions and uncertainty. The house that seems to have rooted itself into my existance, with an energy of it's own that pours into my being and ignites warmth where emptiness used to reside.

Four years of using you as my internal sounding board; audible words no longer necessary. You always had a way of reading through me, into my movements and into the ways I shifted the air around me. Words never played much significance in how we connected, but the silence these four years has been deafening without your energy to fill the gaps. I've found that others tend to fill the space with empty thoughts, shallow statements, and obligation where we used to fill the space with mutual understanding that reached into the bottoms of all things light and dark. I find myself unable to forget your face. -Our face.- But, your voice has become a faint glimmer of memory only present when I least expect it. Pulling tangled emotions from the cobweb dusted edges of my soul, questioning any stability in the moment. Pushing my voice to shake, my hands to tremble, my heart to crack. Pushing me to realize just what I miss, the unanswered questions and the fear that the last hug really was the last.

Four years of coming to terms with approaching the ages I remember you best. Your vibrancy and beauty lifting me in the mirror on my best days. Hope dancing in my eyes, my smile natural and full. -Our smile.- Your shadows and depth weighing me down on my darkest days. Showing up in lavender hues under my hazel eyes. -Our hazel eyes.- Heavy shoulders and a harsh, whipping tongue toward others. I’m reminded that even without you here, so much of me carries you on. The way my skin has aged, the way my body has shaped and my face has morphed, the way I wrestle with acceptance of myself while practicing only empathy for others. The way I can feel everything at once, so deeply, and yet, feel nothing at all. The way I can dispute and ward off darkness without hesitation unless it is for myself. The way I can find such confliction in happiness while singing wildly with joy. So much of me is what I remember of you.

Four years.

Happy birthday to me.

May you be somewhere dancing, singing, and loving existence.