Years have gone by, and now the
pain is nowhere near as sharp as it was during those first few months; people tell me that I should be all better now, like I had the
flu, or a
broken leg… but does that mean that I should stop missing you?
Because I still do…
I miss your
smile the most. That warm, infectious,
energetic smile could light a room; even in the end, when your
smooth high forehead pressed itself pained and
feverish against the hospital bed, you smiled and smiled and
smiled. I can’t imagine the strength that took, and I can’t tell you how much it helped the rest of us. But there are other things…
Your
voice… how does that sound again? Your
scent… do you know how many perfumes I’ve smelled, how many types of
incense I’ve gone through, how many sachets, powders, and lotions I’ve bought? Even so, how am I to know if I have it right without you around? I miss the way you sang me to
sleep when I was younger…
“Daisy, Daisy, tell me your answer true… I’m half crazy over my love for you…” I miss your stories… I miss being your “smart little cookie”… I even miss the time I refused to clean my room and instead told you that I hated you and wished you were
dead. I would gladly welcome back that small moment of
irrational pre-teen behavior if it meant that you would still exist in my life.
I have so many questions I wish I could ask you now… what was your
first date like? What was your favorite music as a
teenager? Your favorite
movies? Why didn’t you ever show off your
artwork? Were you happy with your life? What would you have changed if you could have? How did it feel to be
beautiful…?
I know you’ll never be back; I know these questions will go
unanswered. I know that I’ll probably never remember what your voice sounded like, and that no matter how much I miss you, these things are nothing more than enveloping disjointed memories of light and matter… I know I should be over this by now.
Am I still allowed to
miss you…?