The everyday missing is an ache salved by the promise of you at day’s end.
The harsher pain comes when fear and anger and pain create isolation.
And I miss you.
You infuriate me sometimes.
And yet it is such a miracle that you can function at all.
The scrabble to survive can be harsh.
You’ve come through with remarkable grace.
So, when you are asleep, I miss you.
My life has molded around you.
A mold for a work of art.
When the piece is removed, the mold is hollow.
Empty of purpose and meaning.
And I miss you.
Years have passed.
Struggles with our origin story.
Struggles with the twisting of our closets.
Struggles with the daily vicissitudes that build to weeks, months, years.
We struggled. We stayed. We flourished.
Without We, I miss you.
It is strange to feel the fragility of life.
We have some wealth, some stability, some comfort, yet it can feel at a cliff edge.
It could have been cancer, but there is so much else to offer a view of the precipice.
You know my cremnophobia.
I fear I will miss you.
Your mischievous smile.
Your flares of enthusiasm that light up my life.
Your desire to do better that pushes me on my own journey.
Your fierce love so eloquently expressed.
I cannot miss you.
I love you.
I wrote this in 2019. I think we may have had an argument about something. No one remembers that. Recently, I found this tucked in my files. It seems I had never shared it with Patrick. Likely he was asleep and the next day moved on in its quotidian way. In any case, I hope you enjoy it, and perhaps, it will bring something into your life.
Oh, and photo credit to Susie Best. It was a fun trip to Vancouver that year. In the photo we are hanging out in Stanley Park.
Well done!
Simply beautiful and touching ❤️