Love you more ...

I keep trying to come to this place to write about you and to honor you with my words.  Words used to be so easy for me, effortless creativity and emotion spilling from me like a refreshing waterfall.  But it’s so hard to make the words come now. 

Each day since you left has come with a different emotion; each day develops in me new thoughts and feelings that I find that what I want to say … well, it’s constantly changing.

You always said I was so mature … and wise beyond my years … but right now, more than ever … it’s so hard to be a grown-up when all I want to do is be your little girl again.  Two weeks ago today … it was the last time I saw you at your home, in your room, lying in your bed.  That day you sat more upright than any other day that week and I thought you actually looked better.  Looking backwards on that day, now I can see those signs I was blinded to that showed your parting was imminent.  Though I knew the process had begun, it wasn’t abrupt or shocking; getting to that point seemed to drag on for so long that certainty was vague when it finally arrived. 

I stood there, silently broken … hoping for redemption … but doubting it would come … and all the words I wanted to say were absent..  Deep down, I had already let you go because you no longer wanted to stay.    I had fought it my whole life and in the end I didn’t want there to be a fight … I wanted there to be painlessness and comfort and peace and for my part I willed for that to be given to you.   There’s no shame in the surrender.

But now I wish I could rearrange the sequences and edit the scenes.  Now I long for a different ending … except for the part when I was leaving and I told you “I love you” as I kissed your forehead and you said, “love you more”.