Gone

You are gone. This is a fact, but my brain has yet to accept it. You've been gone nearly two months but I've only just found out.

I spent the last two months staying positive, keeping myself from losing confidence. I've been thinking of you as alive and still fighting.

I ignored the ugly feelings that something was wrong. You weren't responding to anything. I convinced myself you were spending your precious energy on those wonderful children, who matter more than me. I can only hope that is true, that your last days were spent surrounded by your children and family.

I still think you were strong enough to beat the cancer. Losing the baby and the final expiration of your marriage were heavy enough hits. Topped with the ugly cherry of such an aggressive cancer, you were up against too much. Losing much needed love and support in the face of such a daunting trial would do anyone in.

Part of me feels a deep overwhelming pain, loss. There is an ache inside that only time will cure. It's been fueled over the last forty hours by the knowledge that we will never speak again. That all of our dreams are now doomed to remain unfulfilled.

I've cried knowing that I will never kiss you or touch your skin. I can never hold you in my arms or play with your hair. You can't take me dancing or teach me guitar. I'll never be able to kiss you at the top of the Ferris wheel. Our children will never meet, or families will be strangers.

There will never be a chance to watch your hair grow back. I can't ever remind you how beautiful you are, even when you're bald and too thin.

I promised I'd remember you like to be kissed gently, with a nibble at the end. Tears burn my eyes as I grieve for the lost chance to wake up next to you. I still want to hold your hand everywhere; at home, in public, during sex and while we sleep.

I have so many questions that will have to remain unanswered.

This loss, the slow grind of acceptance, is terrible. You fill my thoughts and my heart hurts.

I wish for a different outcome. Crazy thoughts shoot through my head, bouncing off memories of you. What if I'd called sooner? I should have sent more little positive messages. I should have just asked permission to visit. If I had, you'd still be here, fighting. Then I wouldn't have this huge ache inside.

I recognize these thoughts as foolish, and I brush them aside. I focus on better, positive thoughts. On healthier imaginings.

The other part of me is happy you no longer suffer. I couldn't stand to hear you talk about the pain. It made me feel helpless, the simple words I had to offer seeming insignificant and paltry. The ache is eased simply knowing your pain is forever gone.

I smile thinking of you reunited with your daughter. The daughter we all wanted, who left too soon. I can see you both, beautiful and happy, relaxing together in a warm, sun dappled meadow, finally at peace.

I don't know how long it will take for my pain to ease completely. It could be weeks, or years.

I do know I will never forget you. There is a very warm and safe place in my heart, and perhaps even in my soul, that belongs to you. To your memory. You were the first woman I fell in love with. I wanted you in my life in a permanent and endless way.

I will remember your gentle spirit. The obvious depth of your love for your children. Your name will forever conjure images of your smile, the sound of your laugh, the simple qualities that made you a rarity. An inner strength of pure steel. Genuine love and care for everyone in your life. Steadfast loyalty, even to the man who betrayed you. Your unwavering faith in God, even during the worst times. Your acceptance of me, of us, with all our insecurities and imperfections. Those near literal Supermom abilities and countless others I will never get to discover.

I'm grateful we had one last month together. I can only hope my words helped in some way. I wish I could have done more.

I will never forget you. My Michelle, lover of jazz, frozen strawberries and wildflowers. You were my best friend, a sister of my heart and will forever be my love.

Goodbye, Love.