Twelve
It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost 12 years since I have physically seen you. Since I laid myself next to you for hours on end, propped up on a right shoulder that would ache for days later, in the same way that my heart did.
Twelve years that I haven’t experienced the sound of your voice, or your laughter. Twelve years since you last snuggled up next to me, looking up to my face while I breastfed the baby, speaking to me in a language that only the 2 of us understood and that has gained more meaning as the years have gone by.
Though now there are more smiles than tears, this past week has kept me on the brink of the precipice of grief. Tip toeing on the slippery rocks of memory and dancing on the rotting wood of sunken ships filled with love and longing.
It doesn’t get easier. Life grows around grief. But…I never know what tomorrow will look like. What the next anniversary will feel like. What comes with the next time I get great news and reach for the phone 2 seconds before my mind remembers you’re not physically in this place.
And yes, I have you in spirit. And yes, I believe that has made things easier in some aspects. But, I want to feel your hand in mine. I want to wrap my arms around the top of your shoulders and rest my chin on your head. I want you to walk by me and pinch my cheek like I now pinch Elena’s. I want you to make me a pot of lentejas on a cold day and giggle with me about whatever silly stories and jokes we like to tell.
I want you to call back memories of me at baby girl’s age so I can connect with her even more than I already do. I want to pick up the phone and tell you about the thing that cute guy did or the comment he made that I know will have you telling me how your heart feels about this or that, or about your prayers for me in this time.
I live in between two worlds. I always have. But for the last 12 years, I’ve had the privilege of having part of my heart on the other side. And that has changed everything.
It’s been a while since I’ve been unable to stop the tears. This week they come and go like the tide lapping softly on the shore. I hear that in relationships, 12 is the year of silk and linen. This year, I’ve committed myself to a soft life so of course, it would be!
From a symbolic standpoint, it’s supposed to signify a sail, the journey through life and the idea of sailing together, especially on the stormy seas. It’s supposed to remind you of battling through the waves of life and how you’ve come out on the other side into a soft and silky road.
I’d like to think the silk also signifies the veil between this plane and the next. And the closeness that we can still find thanks to that veil.
Every time I’ve had a quiet moment, the water overtakes me and I find myself teary eyed for no particular reason. It be like that sometimes. I’m okay with it.
After twelve years I’ve become a pretty great captain on the seas of grief. But damn if I still don’t miss you like the day you left me sitting on your bed after that last breath.
