I haven’t heard your voices in years.
But everyday my heart still has conversations with both of you.
Sometimes together.
Sometimes on your own.
Grief hurts.
They say it gets better with age, but it’s not that it goes … it just changes and evolves.
From starting as a tsunami to eventually some waves … waves that seemingly come and go as they please, sometimes close, sometimes only seen from afar.
But when they hit. Oh boy, do they hit.
That intense feeling of being overwhelmed.
Being lost in the dark. All by yourself. Wondering if you’ll survive.
Which is ironic, given those are the moments when we’re probably as close as we can be these days.
So I remind myself all that pain is an expression of love.
A longing. A tension. A harmonious connection.
And so while the pain is pretty agonising when it’s in full flow, it’s so much better than the alternative.
Which is why I love letting the conversations go on … with the hope that one day, your voices are heard, not simply felt.
I miss you Mum and Dad.
Happy 59th anniversary.
