“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.” ~William Shakespeare
I think about you every day. I think about how things would be different now if I would have taken the initiative to connect with you sooner rather than later. I wonder in what way doing so would have affected your life, and mine for that matter. I think about how much we are alike, how passionate we both are about certain things, and how naive we are about others. I look at photos of you and think about how pretty you are, and how insecure. I wonder if you knew how much I love you.
Losing you is losing the most beautiful thing I never had. There is a hole in my heart that will never be filled, and it’s exposed to the elements, and when cold wind blows through it, it hurts. I don’t think this feeling will ever completely go away, it’s becoming a part of me, a facet of my character, a part of my persona. In a way I hope it never totally does go away, because somehow, someway, I’m finding comfort in it.
I hope I always have at the very least the slightest sting of the pain that comes from knowing you are no longer in this world. Because it reminds me of just how precious and fragil life is. It keeps me aware that choices I make affect more than just me. It grounds me by knowing that I make a difference in other’s lives, whether I want to or not. I love you Mikhaila. I will always love you, and this faintest of pain will always remind me.
3 months is drop of water in the ocean of eternity, and the distance between the earth and the sun.
I hope I make you proud.