I should be going to bed. It's been a strange day. I cried a little bit this morning, or was it early this afternoon? There was a dull ache hanging over the day, much like the gray clouds outside the window. Just like the day you died. Actually it would be yesterday now, as I look at the time. I guess that makes it officially more than a year since you left...even if just by a smidgeon. One year. Somewhere in the back of my head, I've been dreading this day. I've been dreading the distance. More time means more distance. More time means you're farther away. Of course, I'm seeing time and distance in very mortal terms. Part of me doesn't want to heal. I sometimes fear that if I heal too much, you'll think I won't need you anymore. I'll always need you. I'll always miss you.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not wallowing day in and out. I know you wouldn't like that. I'm going through the motions, as well as the emotions. Moving on as best I can, because I know that's what I'm “supposed” to do and it's happening whether I want it to or not. Honestly, it's like being tied to the back of a train. I'm moving on and leaving you behind but not because I consciously chose to. Sometimes, the warmth of the engine lulls me to sleep and I forget the pain for a time. Then, I snap into consciousness and look back, silently horrified at the distance and I reach out. Nothing could keep you from dying and I know nothing can release me from the forward-cycle of time and emotion. Still...if I could only grieve a little longer, maybe you'd seem a little closer. I know...it doesn't work like that. Besides, you'd be pissed at me if I did that.
George, I'm sorry. I'm not this sad all the time, I promise. But if you're still peeking in, I'm sure you know that. Please don't stop visiting me...not yet. I know it's selfish, but I need you so. Whether it's apparent or not, you're in almost everything I say or do. You are in the direction my life is taking. I know Daryll and I would not be having a baby if it wasn't for you. I hope you come to visit the baby. I'll be sure to tell him or her all about Uncle George...especially if it's a boy. I'm giving him your first name. I hope you don't mind. It it's a girl, well...no.
Well, I'm out of things to say at the moment. I'm very tired and I hurt. Don't worry, I'll feel better soon, really. I'll keep working hard. I'll keep moving toward a better life, I promise. I miss you George, and I love you...very, very much. Well, I guess I'd better go to bed. Somehow, a year suddenly seems like an eternity and a second all in one. I think that means I need to go find where the dreams are. Good night, baby brother.
The last song his iPod played before I called it a night.
No comments:
Post a Comment